


Craving Coffee

by rose_malmaison



Category: NCIS
Genre: Abusive Parent, Angst, Bad!Senior, Case Fic, College!Tony, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Pre-Canon, Rape/Non-con References, Romance, Teen!Tony, alternate beginning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-24
Updated: 2012-11-24
Packaged: 2017-11-19 09:58:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 79
Words: 297,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/572048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rose_malmaison/pseuds/rose_malmaison
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When he is first at NCIS, and  is a probie under Special Agent Mike Franks, Gibbs is investigating a  case involving young military men who have gone missing. When in NY,  Gibbs meets Tony, and immediately falls for him. A few months later, a  college-age Tony turns to Gibbs when he's in trouble, and Gibbs takes  Tony home with him, just for the weekend. It soon becomes apparent that  both Tony and his father are more deeply involved in the case than  either of them initially let on, and so Gibbs finds conflict in his  relationship with Tony and with the ongoing case. Complete.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Poolside

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: M/M, slash, gay sex, language, kink, piercings, abusive parent, non-con, violence.  
> Genre: Slash, AU due to timeline. Pairing: DiNozzo/Gibbs.  
> This is 79 chapters, lots of sex, mentions of abuse and non-con, some trauma and drama. It's really a romance that takes place long before the show begins and portrays another way Tony and Jethro meet, and how they influenced each other's lives.  
> I wrote this over a 2-year period as a WIP. If you enjoy my story, please leave me a comment - I love to hear from you!
> 
> [](http://ncis-fan-awards.livejournal.com/profile)
> 
> **Note about when this takes place:** 1991-1992 within a 6 month period although almost all of this story takes place over a 2-week period. Gibbs goes to the DiNozzo estate in the NY area in late summer 1991 and meets Tony by the pool. Tony is about start college in the first scene. It isn't until about 6 months later, around March 1992, that Tony phones Gibbs from jail and asks for help. Everything that follows takes place in only two weeks.  
> Gibbs is working at NCIS in DC under Mike Franks. Morrow is the director. I added Stan Burley and Jenny Shepard to the team before their time.

Gibbs stood poolside, within sight of the enormous DiNozzo house. His attention was focused solely on the young man relaxing on a cushioned chaise lounge chair in the sun. The whole back yard spoke of money, from the huge Roman pool with a waterfall at the far end, to the luxurious cabana that sported its own bar.

"How old are you, kid?"  He knew how old Anthony DiNozzo, Jr. was. Hell, he knew just about everything there was to know about the DiNozzo family. And from the young man's slow, seductive smile, it was obvious he knew that Gibbs was interested in more than asking questions about a missing Naval seaman.

Gibbs told himself that Anthony DiNozzo, Jr. was just another witness to interview. He was the last in a long line of people who had come in contact with a young Navy seaman who had disappeared while on leave in New York the previous weekend. The seaman, Jacobs, had attended a private party in the city thrown by DiNozzo, Sr., and had then gone missing.

As a result of a growing list of similar young Navy personnel disappearing, and with foul play being suspected, Gibbs and his team were sent to investigate. They had a lot of people to interview and being short of manpower, they had split up. Gibbs got the short straw and ended up on this sunny afternoon all the way out on Long Island at the DiNozzo estate.

Gibbs had spent the previous five minutes asking questions and taking notes. Anthony ("call me Tony") had a look at the military ID picture of Seaman Carl Jacobs and nodded to show he recognized the young man. "There was a huge crowd that night," Tony said openly. "Employees, stockholders, hangers-on. It was private but word got out and everybody and anybody joined in the party. I only said hello to him, didn't ask his name. He went over to the bar and talked to an older man for a while." Gibbs only had to raise his eyebrows for Tony to add, "Five-foot-six, two-hundred pounds, gray hair, mid-fifties, executive type. Not employed by my father. I know them all by sight. Possibly a banker but not a corner-office man. Well-groomed but wearing a Saks' suit from last year's line."

Tony was helpful yet occasionally glanced in the direction of the mansion. Gibbs could feel eyes on his back and knew it was Senior, behind the glass French doors, far enough away he couldn’t hear anything that was being said. What Gibbs didn't know was why the father was so interested, or why Gibbs had been allowed to talk to the son alone.

Gibbs waited, pencil poised, for Tony to continue. "The suit drank bourbon on the rocks, the object of his attention had two gimlets in the short time he was standing at the bar. The suit paid for both drinks."

It only took a look from Gibbs for Tony to say, "Yeah, I know, kids shouldn't be drinking, but Dad turns a blind eye. He figures he isn't responsible for anyone else's actions. I figure if you're old enough to go to war you're old enough to drink.  Besides, it was a party…and the seaman was looking to get laid. They left the room together and I didn't see the suit again but I remember seeing Jacobs heading for the door a while later, at oh-one-hundred. Alone." He shrugged although appeared genuinely concerned about the missing seaman. "You'll have to ask my dad about the banker in the suit, Special Agent Gibbs."

"I will." He was impressed with Tony's observation and recall skills, especially when it had been a crowded, noisy party atmosphere. The one a.m. time had obviously been translated to 'oh-one-hundred' for Gibbs' benefit. He wondered how Tony would describe him. 'Navy cop, Sears' best sports jacket, old grouch,' most likely. "Where'd you learn to give a description like that?" Gibbs couldn’t help but be curious.

"I watch a lot of TV," Tony said simply.

Gibbs had a feeling Tony watched a lot more than just television.

Tony hesitated, then said in a quiet voice, "You could also ask Dad about inviting very young men to private parties, but I doubt you'll get an answer."

Earlier, Senior had answered all of Gibbs' questions. On the surface his answers were upfront and they seemed to hold water, but Gibbs never took anything at face value. There was something about DiNozzo (the elder) that he did not like, smooth ways and slippery smile aside. When DiNozzo had sent Gibbs out to question his son, his eyes had been calculating and, if Gibbs was not mistaken, excited. It was an odd look, one that left a bad feeling in the agent's mouth. Gibbs' gut said that the old man was willing and eager to hand-deliver his own son to the Feds, perhaps to throw them off his own scent.

The kid, Tony, did not look more than sixteen, though Gibbs knew he was older. He wore only tight swim trunks, sunglasses and two small nipple rings. His skin, smooth and tanned from a summer spent lounging around by the family pool, was slathered in what appeared to be a ridiculously expensive suntan lotion; the tube sat on the small glass table next to his lounge chair. Gibbs picked up the lotion and sneered at the label. It had a highfalutin' French name, Plumes Jolies de Polynésie, and had ingredients like shea butter, ginseng and…Polynesian coffee. "Coffee?" The word slipped out before he even realized it.

"You like coffee?" Tony slid his sunglasses off his face and perched them on top of his head. Wisps of his sun-lightened hair stuck up around the designer frames, adding to the aura of youthfulness. He was smiling with his entire face, including his eyes, as if enjoying discovering something personal about Gibbs.

Gibbs was immediately taken with the color of those eyes. They weren't gray-blue like his father's, but more of a green. Probably just from the reflection of the pool, he thought dismissively. Tony's expression was of interest, and amusement, which annoyed Gibbs at first. But on closer inspection there was no hint of cruelty or superiority in them, which, after meeting the father, was what Gibbs had expected. His mistake. It appeared that the son was nothing like his father. Gibbs reprimanded himself for taking the younger DiNozzo at face value.

DiNozzo, Sr. was a piece of work, all titanium-coated steel covered by a smooth, luxurious pelt. His grin was reminiscent of an animal baring its teeth. Gibbs knew his type and was not impressed nor was he cowed.

"There's something about coffee that makes me feel so good," Tony said, making every word soft and full of hidden meaning. He licked his lips, tongue moistening them and leaving them damp and shiny. "It's rich, tastes so bold, strong, mature, and keeps me up for hours." He held out his arm, close to Gibbs' face. "Here, smell me." He demanded.

Without thinking, Gibbs leaned over and took a whiff of Tony's forearm. Damn, he did smell like coffee - one of those exotic imports that cost five times as much as his usual store brand. There were other aromas, too, of the oily base of the lotion as well as something elusive and musky that had to be Tony's own personal scent. Gibbs felt his cock twitch. Shit, he was getting a hard-on over the smell of coffee. Correction - of coffee and Tony. Man, what a combination. Coffee had certainly never been a turn-on for him before and he hoped to hell it wasn't gonna affect him like this when he was back at the office. He'd never been much for men, of any age, believing in looking but not touching. Tastes can change, though.

He could just see himself saying, 'Stan, get me a coffee so I can inhale it on my break while I jerk off.' Jesus, what was happening to him? Pushing his very dark and, thankfully, concealing sunglasses more firmly onto his nose, Gibbs stepped back and cleared his throat. "Spoiled rich kids," he muttered, not caring if this particular rich kid overheard him.

"I'm not exactly a kid, Mr. Gibbs." Tony reclined, stretching his long, nicely muscled limbs in the chair. "I'm legal." Tony made a sound like a contented cat and looked up at Gibbs.

He'd offered the agent a seat as soon as he'd arrived at the pool area, but Gibbs had remained standing. Whether he stood to retain an advantage over the young man he was questioning, or because the view from where he stood was so damned good, Gibbs didn't know. He wasn't even sure at that moment if he was in control of the situation, but he knew that he sure as hell was not in control of his dick. The sight of Tony exhibiting himself in the lounge chair was making Gibbs visibly hard.

He couldn’t help but look over and admire Tony DiNozzo - half-naked, wearing close-fitting swim trunks that Gibbs recognized as being from the James Bond collection, though how the hell he knew that was beyond him. The young man was nicely built, handsome, appealing, sumptuous enough to feast upon, undeniably male despite the jewelry penetrating his nipples, and he was way out of Gibbs' league. Gibbs pulled down his sunglasses and peered over them, quirking a skeptical eyebrow at Tony. "Legal, huh?"

Tony actually blushed, bringing an attractive tinge to his tanned cheeks. "I think I know more than any of the kids I met at my college orientation." He grinned, exhibiting strong white teeth. Gibbs pictured those teeth nipping at his neck, marking him, tongue and lips sucking at his soft flesh, and he felt heat rise up his neck. Tony added, "You cannot measure experience by years alone." He waggled his eyebrows and Gibbs had a hard time keeping his laughter under lock and key.

Damn it, he really liked this young man. "Jailbait," Gibbs muttered.

"You going to take me in? I'll go willingly but only if you cuff me," Tony said playfully. He slid one hand across his belly and then lower, fingers dangerously close to his dick, brushing across his swimwear. Gibbs watched, fascinated, as Tony's cock moved beneath the fabric, pushing, trying valiantly to escape its confines.

Then Tony's other hand skimmed up his abdomen to his chest, to flick at one rosy nipple. He then tugged - hard - on a small gold nipple ring.

Gibbs swallowed, wanting more than anything for it to be his mouth on that nipple, his lips sucking and pulling at it. Shit, the sight made Gibbs horny and he wasn't even into piercing or any fetish or addiction, unless you call coffee-drinking an addiction. He couldn't stand seeing that delicate nipple being tortured like that, so he leaned over and laid his hand over Tony's, stilling the masochistic tweaking. "Don't," he ordered gruffly.

Tony, never missing a beat, reached up, slid a hand around the back Gibbs' neck, and pulled him down. Without knowing how he got there Gibbs found himself sitting on the edge of the lounge chair, facing Tony, their mouths meeting in a wet kiss, heads angling, tongues playing and lips and teeth teasing. It was the moan that really got to him. He'd always been turned on by the sounds of lovemaking but to hear another male's voice quiver and whimper when his fingers gently rubbed circles around one nipple, and then the other, was almost too much.

They broke apart, but not far, foreheads resting against each other, both of them panting. Tony's hand reached out to caress Gibbs' cloth-covered erection, and he whispered, "Father likes to watch." It took a few seconds for Gibbs' mind to get back into gear. He tensed but didn't pull away. Tony's eyes were indeed a beautiful earthy green, their natural shade having nothing to do with the reflection of the pool water, after all.

Tony smiled, and Gibbs felt his heart twinge with something that felt like it was a sight more than mere attraction. He whispered regretfully, "Sorry, kid. So sorry." The disappointment in Tony's eyes was almost enough to break his heart, but Gibbs knew he had no choice.

"Oh…me, too." Tony stroked Gibbs' cheek in what seemed to be a gesture of farewell.

Gibbs stood and adjusted himself. "No more questions." He started to leave, then turned back. "Here," he said, withdrawing his business card. "In case…in case you need anything. Call me."

Tony smiled again, a slow, from-the-heart smile. "I'm sure I can come up with some excuse to call."

Gibbs walked away, saying over his shoulder, "Don’t need no excuses, DiNozzo." As he headed for his car he was followed by Tony's laughter. Then, to himself, Gibbs said, "Damn it, now I've gotta get me some of that fancy Polynesian coffee."

~~~end chapter 1~~~


	2. Rescuing Tony

Special Agent Gibbs added the last of the files to the top of the tall pile of folders, put his coffee cup to his lips and found it was empty. He cursed and stood, preparing to head down to the coffee shop. A glance at the wall clock told him it was almost 1900 hours and it would still be open; he hadn't realized it was so late. No wonder he was hungry.

Franks was out on a case with Stan Burley, and Gibbs had been left to sift through reams of dusty paperwork. A lot of good that did, especially when he was itching to be out in the field. He had been at NCIS for two years now and spending way too much time pushing papers was adding to his mounting frustration. Now that they had a fourth member of the team, Jenny Shepard, the new probie, this should be her job. Except she was a woman and Franks, sexist as he was, had orders from the top to whip her into shape as fast as was possible. Someone upstairs had their eye on the redhead and was grooming her for an executive position, of that Gibbs was certain.

The first case in which Gibbs was lead investigator had never been solved, and that failure chafed as bad as a brand-new shoulder holster. Seaman Carl Jacobs, no more than a kid, had disappeared after a night out in New York City five months ago, and several non-stop days of pounding the pavement and interviewing a hundred people had resulted in a big fat nothing.

Okay, so there had been a reward, of sorts, from that case. Gibbs had met Tony DiNozzo. He allowed himself the indulgence of a private smile. Just thinking of the young man, with his smooth, tanned skin, hairless chest with those damned little gold nipple rings glinting as brightly as Tony's enticing smile… Shit. Gibbs snuck a hand down to adjust his dick, glad the bullpen was empty of witnesses.

He'd be jerking off tonight, once again, accompanied by the memory of that hot, sunny afternoon and the interview poolside with the young man. He'd been an idiot, giving in to temptation, kissing Tony, letting Tony touch him like that, especially knowing that the kid's father was watching them from just inside the house. It was a case of I know…that you know…that I know…but nobody will ever say a thing.

In Gibbs' mind the wealthy man was possibly involved in the disappearance of Seaman Jacobs and other young naval personnel. Guilty of voyeurism, of ordering his own son to seduce the NCIS investigator. He was certainly guilty of something. Hell, weren't they all?

His cell phone rang so he replied and tucked it under his ear while he retrieved his gun and badge from the desk drawer. "Gibbs." When nobody spoke on the other end of the line he barked his name once more. About to hang up, he hesitated, his gut telling him to give the caller a chance.

A quiet voice asked, "Gibbs?"

Time stood still while Gibbs was transported back to the DiNozzo's back yard, sun hot on his back, burning through his sports jacket, the scent of coffee suntan lotion, and Tony's hand nudging at his groin. "Tony?"

"Yeah." Silence, then, "I, uh, I need your help." There was a pause. "I only have one call."

Gibbs didn't speak, his mind racing, knowing what was coming, desperately afraid he'd take the bait, once again. Even more afraid what would happen if he didn't.

In a small voice, Tony pled, "Please?"

"Give the phone to whoever is in charge," he ordered, more gruffly than was necessary. Hearing Tony beg got to him but Gibbs did not like to be out of control.

Tony talked to someone away from the phone and then the 'I have heard it all so don't fuck with me' desk sergeant came on. "Sergeant Callisto, North Brewer P.D. Who's speaking?"

North Brewer? That was 150 miles away. For a second Gibbs considered lying about who he was but he decided to stick as close to the truth as possible. "Special Agent Gibbs, NCIS."

Callisto seemed taken aback for a few seconds. "Is this kid yours, Agent Gibbs?"

Gibbs almost laughed. How he wished! He surprised himself when he said, without thinking, "Yeah, he's mine. What's he done? Any charges?"

"No charges. He says he got mugged." It was obvious from the sergeant's tone he didn't believe that for a minute. "Picked him up in South Brewer. Not a good neighborhood." That sounded like an understatement. "He didn't have any ID or money. Says you're his dad." The sergeant didn't question aloud the validity of Tony's claim even though he sounded dubious.

Gibbs sighed. Oh hell. "Give me directions. I'll be there as soon as I can."

"No hurry. We aint' goin' nowhere."

"Thanks, Sergeant. Uh…is he okay?"

It sounded like the cop placed his hand over his mouth so nobody else could hear what he said. "There's no doc on duty tonight and he wouldn’t let us do more than have a quick look at him. He's hurting but he'll recover."

Gibbs' stomach clenched at the thought of Tony hurt and alone, though at least he was somewhere comparatively safe. "I'll be there in a couple of hours. You take care of my boy," Gibbs ground out.

"Sure thing, Agent Gibbs."

***–***

Tony looked terrible under the harsh lights of the station's holding cell. Hunched over, he crossed his arms over his belly like he was afraid something was going to spill out. His tee-shirt and jeans were dirty, as if from a scuffle, his hair - longer than it had been the last time Gibbs saw him - was spiky and fell over his forehead. Even so, when Tony looked up at the sound of the cell door opening, Gibbs caught sight of a bruise hiding under the floppy hair. There was another bruise on his neck, under his jaw, where the marks of someone's fingers were plain to see. His knuckles bore signs he'd struck back, which made Gibbs think, 'good.'

Tony's eyes, surprisingly dark in the bright lights, were wide and, for a moment, fearful. But then he saw it was Gibbs. The relief in his face was stark before he suppressed it and rose to his feet. He stood in a slightly belligerent pose, weight shifting to one hip. The transformation from scared victim to what-the-fuck-are-you-looking-at young man was astounding, not that Gibbs let on that he'd noticed.

Although Tony was pale he didn't appear to be too badly hurt. Gibbs noticed he had grown taller since their last meeting, though he'd never seen Tony actually standing that time. He had filled out a bit, more muscle on his tall, lean frame. Shoulders wider, body a lot less gangly. But man, that mouth was the same, full and sweet and made for kissing. The eyes, beautiful yet masculine despite impossibly long eyelashes. Gibbs cleared his throat. "You look like crap."

He'd shown his badge when he'd approached the desk and Sergeant Callisto had given Gibbs a brief SitRep: beat cops had scared off a couple of young adults up to no good outside a strip club, Honey Bunny's, found a roughed-up Tony in the side alley, had questioned the kid and decided to bring him in for his own safety.

Callisto said, "He's a tough nut, Agent Gibbs."

Gibbs raised an eyebrow. "He didn't talk?"

There was a burst of laughter from the cops within earshot. Callisto shook his head. "Oh, he talked, all right. About every jailhouse movie ever made, including the complete cast and best scenes in every one. He wouldn’t shut up. Just didn't tell us anything useful."

 

***–***

Gibbs could feel the desk sergeant's eyes on his back. He waved Tony forward with one hand and left the cell without waiting to see if he was following. Scrutinized by Sergeant Callisto, Gibbs signed paperwork taking custody of Tony. He barely managed to hide a slight hesitation when he read Tony's name on the release form as being 'Tony Gibbs.'

Callisto eyed the pair of them from behind the police station's high booking counter. At first Gibbs figured the man wasn't going to say anything, but apparently a sense of responsibility required the cop to at least verify that Gibbs really was Tony's father. He spoke kindly to Tony, "You sure about this, buddy? Cause if you want us to call someone else to pick you up, we can."

Tony shook his head and then saw more was being asked of him. Head bowed a little, he looked up at Gibbs sheepishly. "I'm sorry, Dad, for making you come all the way out here." Tony's gaze dropped. "I didn't have anyone else to call."

Knowing he had to pull this off or they'd both be screwed big-time, Gibbs inhaled between clenched teeth. He slapped Tony on the back of his head, no more than a glancing cuff, and asked tersely, "Didn't I tell you that you can always call me? And never say you're sorry. Just make sure you don't do it again." He didn't specify what the 'it' was because he had no idea what trouble Tony had really got himself into.

"No, sir, I won't do it again."

Gibbs bit back his usual demand not to be called 'sir.' "You need an engraved invitation? Let's go. It's a long drive."

 

***–***

On the way to his car Gibbs noticed the youth was shivering. He sighed and removed his sports jacket. "Here," was all he said. He slung the coat over Tony's shoulders, trying not to touch him for fear of his own body's reaction.

"Thank you, Agent Gibbs--."

Gibbs raised a hand and growled, "Just get in the damned car, DiNozzo. I don't want to hear it. Not yet." Having put an end to any conversation, Gibbs pulled out fast, got on the highway and without questioning his motives, headed home to DC.

 

***–***

Fifty miles along, Gibbs got off the highway and pulled in at a diner to buy some coffee. He left Tony sleeping in the car, and when he returned bearing burgers and drinks, he found the young man awake but groggy. They ate in silence, the car illuminated by the diner's bright lights, until Gibbs asked, "You need a doctor?"

Tony looked surprised at the abrupt question. "Uh, no."

"Sure?"

"I'm fine." He smiled, too broadly.

Gibbs thought it odd that he could already read Tony's lies. "Eat slowly. I don't want you barfing in my car." Tony did as he was told. Gibbs waited until the food had been demolished and Tony was on his second soda before settling sideways in his seat to look at him. He reached out and touched Tony's chin, turning his head so he could inspect the bruise on his temple. It was going to be ugly but the skin wasn't broken.

Although Tony flinched at first contact, he relaxed and allowed Gibbs to check him out.

Gibbs moved Tony's head a bit so he could see the bruising along his jaw. The sight of reddish marks from someone's fingers on his neck made Gibbs' blood boil, but he said calmly, "You'll live. Anything else I should know about?" Tony's instinctive gesture, arms around his ribs, clued Gibbs in. Shit, he had to see how bad it was. "Lift your shirt." He hadn't meant to sound so curt but he tended to appear angry when he was concerned; sometimes the two emotions intermingled.

Tony blinked at Gibbs, afraid of something, but then he complied. He carefully lifted his tee-shirt, exposing an expanse of smooth belly, then dragged the material up higher until his chest was bared. Gibbs moved the material aside with careful fingers. There were bruises, some red marks and a long scrape. He touched the ribs with clinical interest, or that's what he told himself. "Nothing broken," Gibbs announced.

He retracted his hand but Tony didn't pull his shirt down. He sat there, large eyes, luminous in the diner's lights, watching Gibbs with a strange intensity, waiting for something. Waiting for more. Gibbs found his hand reaching out again, this time to stroke up the pale belly with the back of his hand. Tony shivered and when Gibbs stole a glance up at his face he saw Tony's lips part and his eyelids half close with undisguised lust.

He should have stopped right then and there. He knew that. He damn well knew that.

Instead Gibbs ran the tips of his fingers over Tony's sternum and across his hairless chest, palming and caressing his muscles. He rubbed his thumb over one of the rosy-brown nipples, fascinated when it perked up, the nub stiffening to attention at his gentle touch.

Tony arched his back and his bottom lip trembled slightly when Gibbs began to play with his other nipple. "Shit," Gibbs breathed at Tony's reaction. "Your nipple rings…you don't wear them anymore." It was sort of sad. He'd liked them. No, he'd been turned on by the way those gold rings pierced Tony's sensitive flesh. The way Tony had tugged on them that day last summer, mercilessly pulling at his erect nipples, a lewd mixture of self-inflicted pleasure and pain. Gibbs licked his lips and drew in a ragged breath.

"I took them out," Tony whispered. "They're in my pocket. Can't wear them on the swim team…" He moaned when Gibbs tweaked both of his nipples at the same time then rubbed around the areolae. "Oh God, Gibbs…harder. Jesus, please…"

Instead of continuing, Gibbs withdrew. He was aching and so hard he was afraid it wouldn't take more than a touch to make him come. Not here, not here. For God's sake, get a grip, Marine. "Pull your shirt down," he ordered. He grabbed the trash from their meal and stepped out of the car to dispose of it in a garbage can on the sidewalk. Gibbs took a few deep breaths and, without looking at the young man sitting in his car, went into the diner, used the head and bought another coffee to go. By the time he returned and was once again in the driver's seat he had regained some of his composure.

Tony was snuggled in Gibbs' jacket and was leaning against the door, but his eyes were open. He didn't say anything until they were back on the highway. "You're mad at me," Tony said forlornly, pulling the jacket around him securely.

Not sparing him a glance, Gibbs shook his head. "No. I'm old enough…" He was going to say he was old enough to be his father, but that wasn't strictly true. Besides, he felt about as far from being paternal as was possible, so he let out a sharp laugh. "Old enough to know better," was what he finally said. He could feel Tony's eyes on him. He had to drive a bit slower than normal because his concentration was off. Still, they were making good time.

Tony replied firmly, "We're both old enough."

Gibbs laughed. "Jailbait."

That made Tony smile even though he shook his head in denial. "This time nobody's watching."

After a few miles Gibbs asked, barely suppressing his anger at DiNozzo, Sr., "Does he do that often?"

Tony looked out the window at the vehicles they were passing at a rapid rate. "Not so much any more now I'm older, and at college." He shrugged. "It's just business." Tony turned to look at Gibbs, boldly, as if he was proud. "Dad says I can clinch a million-dollar deal with one of my blowjobs. You know that Ryatt Hotel and Pandora Cruise Line merger a couple of years ago? The CEO of Ryatt called me the best deal-breaking ball-breaker of all time."

Shit, was all Gibbs could think. Shit and fuck! The image of young Tony in a boardroom, his bare ass sticking out from under a CEO's shirttails, making sloppy sounds of simulated orgasmic pleasure while he sucked a stranger off under Daddy's watchful, egotistical eye, made Gibbs' dick harden all over again.

He had visions of Daddy DiNozzo stripping down his son and offering the boy as incentive. Gibbs was infuriated that DiNozzo used his own son as a tool, and was just as angry with himself for being a hypocrite. Tony may be in college but he was still so much younger than Gibbs was. His foot pressed down on the accelerator and they flew down the highway. "Shut up, Tony. Just shut up."

Once more Tony settled against the car door, wondering why Gibbs always seemed to be so mad at him.

***end chapter 2***


	3. Taking Tony Home

"Is anyone going to wonder where you are, Tony?"  
  
After some thought, Tony said, "Coach will miss me, I guess, if he does roll call. We were at an away meet, for swim team. Eastern Collegiate Championships." Tony shrugged and then added, "I was with some friends. We had a couple of hours before the bus left and I wanted to celebrate our win. All we were gonna do was go to a strip club but then the other guys acted like girls and backed out." There was silence for a few minutes. "Those guys in the alleyway were gonna hurt me, you know. The cops came just in time. I got in a few punches but…" He looked at Gibbs. "Did I thank you for coming to my rescue?"  
  
"Don't have to," Gibbs said.  
  
"Well, thank you anyway."  
  
"Did they get your wallet?"  
  
"Uh, they stole one I carry with a fake ID. Some cash. My real one's in my gym bag on the bus. Someone'll stash it in the locker room and I'll pick it up when I get back to school," Tony said, unconcerned.  
  
Gibbs handed Tony his cell phone. "Call your coach, or someone who can tell him you're okay. Tell him your…dad picked you up." He looked sideways at Tony. "I can turn around, take you all the way back to college if you want." It was a long way but he'd done crazier things. Or he could keep Tony until Sunday afternoon when he'd put him on a flight back to school. Maybe he could delude himself that this was okay on any level.  
  
Tony didn't hesitate. "No. I want to stay with you. I'll make that call."  
  
***  
  
They were close to Gibbs' home when his cell rang. "Gibbs." It was Franks, telling him the results of the day's investigation. Gibbs went over what he'd gleaned from his hours of perusing the case files, and they agreed to leave any further digging until Monday.  
  
"Are you in your car, Probie?"  
  
"Had to pick up something to eat," Gibbs replied, his good sense telling him to keep his business with Tony to himself.  
  
Franks seemed to have a sixth sense about some things. "Huh. Just don't get indigestion," he said and then hung up.  
  
***  
  
"C'mon kid, wake up." Gibbs roused the sleepy Tony from his car, hauling him to his feet. The young man was no lightweight, even if he was lean.  
  
Tony grumbled a bit but once they were inside the house he blinked and rubbed his eyes, then perked up with interest. "This your place?"  
  
Gibbs grunted in reply and went to the kitchen to pour himself a dose of bourbon. "You want anything to drink?"  
  
Tony came up behind Gibbs, wrapped his arms around his waist and laid his cheek against the older man's broad back. "Beer?"  
  
Gibbs stilled, surprised and ridiculously pleased at the sign of affection, but he decided not to make a big deal of Tony's close proximity. He asked jokingly, "You're twenty-one, right?"  
  
"I'm anything you want me to be," Tony said lazily, hugging Gibbs tightly, fingers of one hand splaying across the older man's taut stomach muscles, the other roaming lower. Tony wrapped his fingers around Gibbs' cock and let out a sound of pleasure at its immediate reaction.  
  
Gibbs quickly turned around, detaching the limpet-like arms that clung to him. "I'm not like them, Tony," he said harshly. "I don't want you to be what I want. I want you to be you. Nobody's watching, you get that?"  
  
Tony stood there, frowning slightly. His head went to one side as he studied Gibbs' face. "Okay." He offered a small smile. "I'll try." When Gibbs nodded in reply, apparently satisfied, Tony smiled happily. "This'll be my first."  
  
Gibbs was afraid to ask. "Your first what? First beer?"  
  
With a laugh, Tony said, "No, we always drink wine at home, with dinner. Have since I was a kid. Kegs at college after every game. I meant it's my first time being….you know…"  
  
Gibbs raised his eyebrows. No, he didn't know.  
  
Tony almost rolled his eyes. He leaned a little forward and said in a hushed tone, "First time being me. First time being with you. For real."  
  
"What about girls?" Gibbs had to ask, to see what he was getting into.  
  
Tony said, as if it was obvious, "Well yeah, but that's just sex."  
  
Gibbs cleared his throat. "Boys, then?"  
  
Funnily enough, Tony looked insulted. "No. I'm not…I'm not interested in them." His eyes met Gibbs' with no sense of guile. "I'm only interested in you, Gibbs. Isn't it for real with you?""  
  
They weren't even touching and Gibbs was aroused. Hell, what had he started? And could he finish it? Swallowing, he said, "Yeah, it's for real, Tony. But only if you want to."  
  
Tony's smile grew even wider. He stepped into Gibbs' arms without hesitation. "I do want to. Of course I do."  
  
After a minute of just holding Tony in his arms, Gibbs got a firm grip on his biceps and moved him back a foot. He had to take a breath before he spoke. "Then we do this right. Upstairs." He went to the front door to lock it and met Tony at the base of the stairs. Not touching him, though aching to do so, Gibbs led the way up to his bedroom and then closed that door as well.  
  
***  
  
Gibbs stood in his bathroom, hands braced against the porcelain sink, and fought with himself.  
  
There was no way to excuse, nor rationalize, this damned feeling coursing through him. Gibbs recognized it for what it was: lust, plain and simple. The problem was that he'd never been so ruled by it, so totally out of control. So close to bursting with sexual energy that his dick hurt - ached right through his balls - every time he so much as looked at Tony, thought about him, or if he so much as caught a whiff of Tony's scent.  
  
It wasn't too late. He could call him a cab and book him on the first flight back to college. He could tell him that he wasn't interested in him, not in that way; he did not fuck men of any age. He could explain that he was involved with a woman, or more accurately that she was involved with him and was hinting about marriage. She was out of town this weekend, and he'd never committed to her in any way. Was he trying to convince himself to stop this lunacy or sanctioning his actions? Hell, maybe he should just lock Tony in the spare bedroom just to keep him safe, even though it was cold and had boxes and junk on the stripped-bare mattress, and let him out when it was time to send him back.  
  
But when it came down to it, if Leroy Jethro Gibbs could only but admit it to himself, he was totally smitten by Anthony DiNozzo, Jr., and nothing good could come of his craving. So he made his choice, and when he did he knew it was right…even though it felt oh so wrong.  
  
By the time Gibbs emerged from the bathroom, clad only in his trousers, he was prepared to tell Tony it had all been a big mistake.  
  
***end chapter 3***


	4. Gold Rings

Gibbs entered his bedroom, determined to reject the young man or, at the very least, to insist that Tony sleep in the guest bedroom.  
  
One look at Tony standing in the middle of his bedroom, clad only in bright red briefs and a pair of small gold nipple rings, and Gibbs forgot how to speak. Shit, he was ruled by his dick, and there was no getting around it. He gave up and sank to his knees in front of the young man.  
  
Tony's ran his long fingers across Gibbs' bare chest and shoulder, murmuring in admiration, caressing the ex-Marine's short graying hair. "I wanted this, craved this, ever since you came to the house," Tony said. He hugged Gibbs' head to his stomach and stroked his hair. "I knew you wanted me, too."  
  
Somehow Gibbs knew that the young man was smiling above him. He wrapped his arms around Tony's hips, hands exploring and kneading the muscular ass, as he brushed his cheek against the incongruous red briefs, nuzzling his face along the thick, hardening ridge hiding beneath the soft fabric. Gibbs inhaled, and then groaned at the musky scent and what it was doing to him. He worked his tongue across the fabric, mouthing Tony's dick, then searching for and finding the opening. There, there it was, the smell strong. Gibbs was finally able to make contact with the warm silky skin covering and impossibly hard dick. It jerked when his tongue swiped at it, and Tony gasped and gripped Gibbs' head tightly. Gibbs licked once more then said huskily, "I want to see you." He looked up seeking permission and received it. Slowly he pulled the underwear down and let all of Tony free.  
  
Tony's cock was everything Gibbs had expected it to be, long and heavy, flushed and erect, and moist at the tip, jutting away from his hairless groin. Fuck, Gibbs realized, there was no hair on his body, not a single one. "Jesus," he said on a sigh.  
  
Tony murmured, "Swim team," as if that explained everything.  
  
With deft hands Gibbs took possession of Tony's leaking cock, stroking up and down the shaft, twisting gently at first, pulling and running his thumb across the slit, increasing pressure, making Tony jerk and moan and cling to his hair until it hurt. Gibbs licked up and down Tony's heavy cock and then took it in his mouth, using lips and tongue and some judicious use of teeth, along with a good deal of suction to slowly draw a climax out of the younger man.  
  
Tony whimpered and moaned and talked a lot. Too damned much, Gibbs thought. But hearing Tony saying, "Yes…there…you're good, so good…suck me," along with some very loud and breathy moans, sort of grew on him. With his mouth busy bobbing up and down Tony's cock, Gibbs hands slid up Tony's waist and belly, and then his fingers found the nipple rings and he pulled on them. Tony yelped, and Gibbs, afraid he'd gone too far, immediately stopped and pulled back. Tony's cock, dark and glistening, jutted towards him invitingly. Gibbs licked his lips, breathless. "Shit, Tony, I didn't mean to hurt you."  
  
"No, no," Tony said with a tremor in his voice. "Fuck, do it, do it, Gibbs." He took hold of Gibbs' hands and forced them up to take hold of his nipples once more. "I like it. Please," he panted. "I need…"  
  
Gibbs did as he was instructed. He took Tony's dick in his mouth again, his head rocking back and forth while his fingers pulled on the small gold rings, gently at first, then as Tony's moans grew in intensity, a bit harder, eliciting high noises from him that hovered on the edge of extreme pain.  
  
A sharp tug on the rings and some tongue action to his cock pushed Tony over the edge; he arched his back and jerked and came with a scream. Gibbs swallowed, greedy for Tony's come, wanting to drain him, to own him in his entirety.  
  
They collapsed together, Gibbs on his knees, holding Tony close. Tremors caused Tony's body to shake, and Gibbs supported him through the aftermath, savoring the sheer weight of the young, lithe body reclining limply in his arms. "C'mon," Gibbs said after a while, his hands on Tony's sweaty back, encouraging him to rise and move onto the bed. Once Tony was settled, Gibbs stripped off his trousers then he laid beside him.  
  
Tony relaxed, his long limbs splayed out. He looked at Gibbs from under heavy-lidded eyes, his mouth slightly open, still breathing heavily. "I've…never screamed like that before," he said with a look of wonder.  
  
Gibbs faced Tony, propping his head up on one elbow. "I've never made anyone scream like that, so we're even," he said with a smile. Gibbs's hand slid up Tony's arm and shoulder and then around the vulnerable throat, matching his fingers the red marks left on his neck by one of his assailants. "Nobody should touch you but me," he muttered under his breath with a frown. He placed light kisses on Tony's neck, and licked and nibbled his way along the muscle to the underside of his jaw. There he felt the roughness of Tony's evening stubble that made him think of sandpaper.  
  
"Nobody will touch me except you, Gibbs," Tony said, leaning into the older man to tease him with a nip upon his lips before moving into a long, languorous kiss.  
  
Gibbs' tongue delved into Tony's sweet mouth, aroused the small noises of pleasure the young man was making. When he pulled back for a breath, Tony's mouth followed his, his lips parted in a blatant plea for more, but Gibbs smiled and pressed his palm to his chest. He gently rubbed the heel of his hand across one of Tony's tender nipples, comparing the hot skin to the cool metal of the nipple ring. He tugged a little on the ring and flowed it up with a lap of his tongue and was rewarded by a mewling sound from Tony's throat. His fingers trailed further down, dragging lightly across Tony's stomach to investigate the dip of his navel, and finally fondling his genitals. "I like you like this…smooth." He lightly rolled Tony's balls in his palm and watched as his eyes closed and his head rolled back and forth on the pillow, begging for more with ever little whimper he made. "So beautiful," Gibbs said.  
  
"I'm all. . . yours," Tony responded between ragged breaths.  
  
Gibbs' own erection needed attention; the sight and smell of Tony, and the needy ache in his balls, were making it increasingly difficult to concentrate. "I want you to touch me," Gibbs said in a low voice, more of an order than a request. He wanted those long fingers grasping him, pulling at his balls, fisting his cock and bringing him to orgasm.  
  
Turning into Gibbs, Tony returned the favor, fisting his hard, wet cock with a dragging, slow pressure that caused the older man to bite his lower lip as he struggled to hold on a little longer.  
  
"Tell me what you want," Tony said. With his other hand he fondled the muscles of Gibbs' ass. "Oh God, you're so good. You want to take me, don't you? You can fuck me hard, Gibbs. I'm good. I'm really good at taking it. I'll love it if it's you doing it. I need you to hurt me. I'm begging you, hurt me, Gibbs. I need. . . I need to be punished. I _deserve_ it. Hurt me, please _hurt_ me!" He searched Gibbs' face for direction, for approval, panting, his eyes full of dark desire even as he slid his hand up and down Gibb's shaft and the other grabbed his ass, no longer gentle.  
  
Shocked at what he heard in Tony's request, Gibbs reached down and stilled the searching hands, capturing them in his strong grasp. "No!" He understood giving and receiving pain as a way to heighten arousal, but to hear this man begging for it as if that was the way it should be, as if it was the only way, as if pain was his due…it was more than he could take. "No! Don’t! Don't ask me to hurt you, Tony. Not like that. It's wrong." He saw the slight shake of Tony's head and the confusion in his eyes mingling with fear, not quite understanding what it was that he'd done wrong. "Don't you see?"  
  
"I thought you wanted me." Tony withdrew a little, his hands trying to escape from Gibbs' grip but failing. His eyes dropped when faced by Gibbs' piercing gaze.  
  
"God, I do want you. I _do_." Gibbs released Tony's hands and cupped his face instead, gentle but insistent. "Please, Tony." The young man's hurt was plain to see and Gibbs knew he had to be cautious with his words, something he'd never been very adept at. Now was not the time to screw up, not with so much riding on this fledgling relationship.  He took a deep breath and plunged in the deep end. "I know your old man's fucked with you and sold you to the highest bidder, Tony, but I'm not him. I would never treat you like that, pimp you out. I'd never be like one of those johns. This is going to be different." He kissed Tony's mouth gently, showing him with soft sweeps of his tongue and the hungry pressure of his lips how good love could be when it's with the right person. "I'd never. . . I will not hurt you," he promised. "You're worth far too much to me."  
  
Tony moaned and wrapped his arms around Gibbs' back, pulling at him frantically until their chests met. "I'll be good, I'll be good. You'll see," Tony insisted.  
  
"I already know you're good, Tony." Gibbs rolled on top of his young lover, claiming with his mouth, stronger now, showing he was the boss, and Tony took it all in, moaning and almost in tears, as if nobody had ever offered him a kind word or touched him in just that way before.  
  
Then Gibbs fumbled with some lube and two slick fingers entered Tony, pulling a whine of pleasure out of him, along with something sharp in Tony's chest that felt like pain but wasn't like any other pain he'd ever experienced because it was Gibbs, and the pain was love. _Because it was Gibbs._ The big, blunt fingers stroked and touched him, just there, and Tony saw stars and thrust against the fingers, wanting more, wanting everything that Gibbs could give him. He reached down and blindly took Gibbs' heavy cock, guiding its rigid length towards his entrance.  
  
The older man kissed him and delayed long enough to roll on a condom and a generous amount of lube and then he was positioning himself and waiting and waiting, until finally Tony met his eyes and begged him to enter him with a low, "Please."  
  
Gibbs as he was told, slowly, his eyes closing in concentration even though all he wanted to see was to watch Tony's expression when he entered him. He was in, and it was tight and so damned hot and he managed to open his eyes only to discover Tony staring up at him with an amazed look that turned into a beautiful smile.  
  
Gibbs slid further into the tight passage with far more ease than he'd expected, and Tony was angling his hips and murmuring little words of encouragement. Tony's eyes closed and he arched and moaned and panted with pleasure, and Gibbs couldn’t hold back any more. He thrust hard, harder than he had intended to, but the younger man showed no signs of distress, so Gibbs grasped Tony's hips and embedded his dick right to the hilt and lay there for a minute, breathing hard. When he moved again it was slow, with long, smooth strokes. Then he built up speed, his balls slapping against Tony's ass, and Tony's groans and pleas to fuck him harder were carried on hot breath against his cheek.  
  
When Gibbs came it was hard and unexpected in its intensity, with shudders wracking his body and a shout bursting from his mouth, eyes closed against the intensity of his climax. Tony's hand was gripping his neck and his voice hushing him and smoothing his hair as if he was a child that needed comforting, while he inhaled in deep sobs and tried to calm his pounding heart.  
  
***  
  
Gibbs woke slowly, unsure of where he was. His own bed, he thought. Something was different. Then he felt the warmth of a male body jammed up against his side, all hard planes and muscles, and remembered: Tony. Gibbs smiled. Oh God, no wonder he was worn out. Moving his head on the pillow he discovered he was being watched. He smiled at the loving look in Tony's eyes and said lazily, "Hey." He shifted on the mattress and discovered his back ached from the workout, and a groan escaped his lips.  
  
"Morning," Tony said with a grin, knowing damned well the effect he'd had on his lover last night.  
  
"You okay?" If someone had asked Gibbs to describe the feeling that overtook him at that moment, he'd have had trouble finding the right word for it. It might have been satisfaction, but it wasn't of the selfish variety. Physically tired yet sated. Joyous, though more subdued. More like fulfillment, or bliss.  
  
In the end it was Tony who found the right word. "I've never had it so sweet." He kissed Gibbs gently then laid his head on his lover's chest with a sigh. "How long can we be together?"  
  
'Forever if I had my way,' thought Gibbs. "All weekend, if you want. Is that okay with you?" He could feel Tony smiling against his skin.  
  
"Sure, Gibbs."  
  
Gibbs tapped the top of Tony's head. "I think it's time you called me Jethro."  
  
*** end chapter 4***


	5. Morning

Gibbs liked everything to be shipshape and in order. He kept to a regimen and everything was done in a timely manner. Work before pleasure, that was Gibbs' mantra. Whenever he had free time, which wasn't very often, he cleaned his house and did any needed repairs, stocked up on food and booze, and took care of his bills. For fun he might read the newspaper over a big cup of coffee, or maybe take in a ball game on his small black and white TV. Late at night he could be found down in his basement working on his boat. It was neither work nor pleasure - his boat was all about keeping his sanity.  
  
When he dated, which had only been a couple of times in the past year, Gibbs preferred to take the lady out for a decent meal, for a little dancing and maybe a stroll around the marina. If things went well they'd make out, though nothing too hot or fast. If things went really well they'd go back to her place. Gibbs had a rule that he did not bring women back to his house; it was just his way of keeping things from becoming complicated.  
  
He usually dated the same woman a few times, to give the relationship a fair shake, and when they broke up he always accepted the blame. Gibbs knew he was steady but not exciting, and he wasn't about to change for anyone. He hadn't changed for Shannon, but he had grown with her, and together they had forged a bond that Gibbs knew he'd never find with anyone else. He wasn't seeking more of the same; that would be futile. But he needed companionship and was making tentative steps towards finding someone to spend time with. He couldn’t think of forever, but he was trying for long-term, and that was something.  
  
Now it seemed as though his current relationship was becoming serious, or more accurately the woman was serious, hinting about commitment. The hairs at the back of Gibbs' neck rose when he even thought of that word. His instinct was to run for the hills, but his mute stares in response to any request she made to talk about their future together usually did the trick. The woman he was currently dating, Joan, was persistent though, and he could honestly say he had feelings for her. She was bright, and easy on the eyes, and she seemed pretty independent, which were all plus marks in the Jethro Gibbs' playbook. She also had dark auburn hair. Although Gibbs hadn't even thought about getting married again, especially as he was still mourning the death of his wife and child, and was likely to be for a very long time, he could feel his protective walls crumbling.  
  
Despite his solitary ways, Gibbs wasn't used to living alone. He had a good deal interaction with people at work but coming home to an empty house was depressing and draining on the soul. Being alone gave him too much time to think about what might have been, where he'd gone wrong, what he should have done to prevent theirf murders. 'Should haves' were pointless and were never easy to live with. He hadn't been happy since losing Shannon but he got along okay. Work kept him busy, even now his courses at FLETC were finally complete.  
  
Mike Franks' team was growing, and now they numbered four even if the new girl Jenny was wet behind the ears. As soon as they finished one case it seemed they were sent out on another. They were very good at what they did, and it was satisfying to be able to solve crimes and to put scumbags behind bars on a regular basis. It wasn't as Gibbs had envisioned his life to be - now his family was gone - but he would almost say he was content with everything the way it was.  
  
Or he _had_ been content, prior to NCIS's investigation into a missing naval seaman that took him to Long Island last summer. That was his one failure, an unsolved case when he was the lead, and it stuck in his craw. He'd spent a few days in NY, had gone out to the DiNozzo mansion and interviewed the young man by the pool who was one of the last people to see the missing sailor. That was the day he met Tony. That was the day his whole life changed.  
  
***  
  
Saturday morning, when Gibbs awoke just as the sky began to lighten, things were far from normal. For starters, there was a man in his bed - a lithe, sensual, and beautiful young man who happened to be very skilled with his mouth and hands. At that moment a hot, wet mouth was exhibiting a single-minded devotion to Leroy Jethro Gibbs' cock. Even before he had a chance to wipe the sleep out of his eyes, Gibbs was gasping, "God…Tony…"  
  
The mouth pulled only partially away from Gibbs' cock, and from under the covers a voice asked teasingly, "Want me to stop?" Or that was how Gibbs translated the muffled, "Wammetashtop?"  
  
Gibbs, smart man that he was, was not about to look a gift horse in the mouth, particularly when he was in the middle of getting an incredible wake-up blowjob. He reached down under the sheet and took gentle hold of Tony's head, loving the feeling of his soft, tousled hair between his fingers. "No, dammit. Don't stop."  
  
Gibbs heard a laugh from down there, between his legs, then Tony's tongue gave a languid sweep along the underside of his cock. Tony licked a little more around the head before he took all of him deep in his mouth, sucking and releasing rhythmically, moaning with gratification when Gibbs' cock grew fat and hard and pushed against the back of his throat. The sensation of being swallowed almost put Gibbs over the edge but somehow he held back. He reached down to grip Tony's shoulders and tried not to thrust but when another low moan vibrated up the length of his shaft, and Tony rubbed that spot behind his balls, it was too much and he jerked and came with a shudder.  
  
When Gibbs finished ejaculating and his dick softened, and he was still trying to catch his breath, Tony emerged from under the covers, licking his lips clean and looking like a cat who was inordinately pleased with himself.  
  
It was quite a while before Gibbs could think any coherent thoughts but he pulled his lover to his chest and hugged him, blearily wondering as he went back to sleep, 'What the hell have I done to deserve this?'  
  
***  
  
Tony. Just thinking of his name made Gibbs smile, although the way DiNozzo Senior treated his son as his own personal corporate whore was nothing to smile about. DiNozzo Senior had been pimping his own son out for years, according to Tony, in exchange for favors and information. Gibbs had asked when this had begun, and Tony had looked him in the eye, his cheeks coloring only a little when he nonchalantly replied, "For years." Tony had shrugged it off but when Gibbs waited for something more, the young man looked away.  
  
To hear Tony talk about it, and he'd only briefly mentioned the things he'd done for his dad, he took a certain amount of pride in being an integral part of the success of some big business mergers his father orchestrated. Hearing that misplaced sense of pride had made Gibbs want to go and take Tony's father out, in a close-up and permanent kind of way.  
  
But Gibbs had to face the reality of the situation. He was older than Tony, more experienced, had fought in wars overseas, worked for a federal agency. Wasn't he taking advantage of the young man? It must count for something that he really cared about Tony. Okay, he got hard as a rock from just looking at him, and he'd derived a great deal of pleasure from their sexual liaison so far. And no, he was not going to give Tony up, not while he had such a craving for him.  
  
Gibbs didn't mean Tony any harm, which was more than he could say for DiNozzo Sr.. Tony's old man might bankroll his son's education but he made the boy damned-well pay for it by pimping him out. Gibbs was working on a way to prevent that from happening any more; he didn't have a plan yet but he had to do something.  
  
*  
  
Tony was great in bed, that was for damned sure. The attraction may have started out based upon lust but Gibbs was aware that he was already developing strong feelings for him. Sure, he wanted to protect Tony, and keep him safe, but he became intensely jealous when he thought about what would probably happen to Tony once he left his side.  
  
"I have to be back at school Monday," Tony had said last night before they fell asleep. "Have to study for an exam and there's practice and…"  
  
***  
  
Gibbs had to ask, "You go home much? To New York."  
  
"Long weekends, holidays, whenever business calls." Tony said with a shrug, not meeting Gibbs' eyes. "It's part of our deal. Always be available." He did look up when he said, "I major in Phys. Ed. but I have to take business classes as well. They're boring." Tony apparently decided to disclose some things to Gibbs that he normally kept to himself. "I go when he needs me," he said frankly. "'This is not some job flipping burgers at some local drive-in.'" Tony grinned. "That's a line from 'Point Break', where an FBI agent goes undercover to catch bank robbers who might be surfers."  
  
Strangely enough, Gibbs knew the name of the movie; he'd seen ads for it on TV. "You should stop," Gibbs said. God, that's what Shannon had said to him, all those years ago, when she'd seen his face battered from fighting. But had he been able to refrain from getting into fistfights? No, not at first. It hadn't been easy. Eventually he'd learned to control his outbursts of temper and usually managed to solve problems in less physical ways. Usually. Being in the Marines had channeled his aggressive tendencies.  
  
"I should stop?" Tony seemed confused. "You mean walk away? But…he's my father. I'm only on a partial sports scholarship."  
  
Meaning his father wouldn’t pay for his education unless his son did as he was told. It wasn't an unreasonable request, if the family dynamic was normal, which it wasn't from what Gibbs had been hearing.  
  
Even though Gibbs was pretty sure that Tony comprehended exactly how badly he was being used, he didn't see any sign that the young man wanted it to put a stop to it. Was using his body as a tool so empowering, so addictive he didn't want to give it up? Was it about the money, about Dad paying for his college? Tony might not be willing or able to walk away from the life his father had set out for him, to say 'no' to taking part in the exchange of favors, for money and a pat on the head. Jesus, what a fucked-up world, thought Gibbs.  
  
Gibbs had taken the steps down the right path because of Shannon. He'd had a goal and the best reason in the world to make important changes - he'd had someone who loved him and believed in him, who had made him believe in himself. "Maybe," Gibbs suggested cautiously, "you need something to leave for. Maybe I can give you a reason." And there it was, a glimmer of hope in Tony's eyes. Yeah, he knew how deep he was into the life, and it probably never entered his head that he could escape, or that he should try. At least Gibbs now knew there was a desire to change in there somewhere. "Trust me, Tony. We'll figure something out."  
  
Tony smiled, one of his slow to grow but oh-so-beautiful smiles that lit up his face, and reached his eyes, and made Gibbs love him so deeply it hurt.  
  
"But I do trust you, Jethro."  
  
***  
  
The bottom line was that when Gibbs looked into what drove him to feel so damned possessive of Tony, and feel responsible for him, was that he cared deeply about the young man. He had, almost from the first moment they'd met. Gibbs might not be able to say the word 'love' aloud but he acknowledged that the feeling was growing strong inside of him, and it made him happy for the first time since Shannon and Kelly had died.  
  
***  
  
Gibbs pulled Tony, still sleeping, closer and placed a gentle kiss on his forehead, avoiding the bruise on his temple. He gently lifted Tony's right hand and laid a whisper-soft kiss on the roughed-up knuckles, inordinately proud that Tony had made contact with a few punches of his own. The marks on his neck seemed to be fading already. That was good. Looking over the bare chest of the young man in his arms, Gibbs took note of the bruise on his ribs, which was turning a dark purple. The scrape, lower down, didn't look too bad in the morning light, but the sight of the damage to the youth's body angered Gibbs.  
  
The people who had hurt Tony behind the strip club had been intent on mugging him, and they got away with some cash, he'd said. Gibbs thought that they would probably never know who Tony's attackers were. On one hand he wanted to track them down and beat the shit out of them, but Tony had shrugged it off and said that he had no intention of pursuing the matter. Even though it galled him to do so, Gibbs decided to let the matter go.  
  
Now that Tony was in his custody for the rest of the weekend, Gibbs intended to make the most of their time together. He wasn't sure what he was going to do to entertain his visitor; it wasn't like they could spend all day in bed. Boat-building wasn't likely to be on the top of anyone's list of fun things to do, unless you were Leroy Jethro Gibbs, but he needed some wood and hardware so it looked like a trip to the lumberyard was on the agenda. Grab some pizza for lunch, take in the monuments.  
  
He checked the bedside clock; it was already eight and they should get going. Maybe he'd take Tony to the firing range and he could show him the basics. Gibbs imagined standing close behind Tony in order to correct his stance, his groin rubbing up against his bottom, Tony making sexy sounds of appreciation while trying to concentrate on the target. Gibbs rubbed his aching dick. Shit, he'd have to cool those thoughts or he'd be in a perpetual state of hardness all day.  
  
Tony stirred and made little noises, his tongue emerging to lick his lips, which were pink and puffy from being kissed so much the night before. His eyelids twitched and slowly opened. Long lashes framing gray-green eyes fluttered and then Tony was awake and staring up at Gibbs. It took him a few seconds to get his bearings. A small smile grew into a far wider one, signaling his awareness. "Mmm. This is nice. Never done this before."  
  
Gibbs couldn’t help smiling in return. "Never done what?" He imagined Tony had awoken in plenty of strange places and beds, although he didn't want to dwell on the images that sprung to mind and raised his blood pressure.  
  
"Never spent the whole night with anyone. Never woke up like this…" Tony wrapped his arms around Gibbs and burrowed his face in the older man's neck. "Mmm. You smell like coffee and sex."  
  
"Better hit the shower then," Gibbs said gruffly. He really needed some coffee, too, but a cold shower took precedence.  
  
Tony's arms wrapped tightly around Gibbs and he snuggled in closer, burying his nose in the older man's side and making a show of inhaling his scent. "Nooo," he protested. "Need more sex. Wanna make love."  
  
Gibbs could feel Tony's half-hard dick poking at his thigh and suddenly it became difficult to breathe. It took a great deal of control to do so, but Gibbs extricated himself from Tony's limpet-like grasp. "Well I need coffee." Without looking back at the young man sprawled in his bed, knowing he'd be tempted to stay there all day, he headed for the bathroom. Gibbs washed and shaved, and by the time he'd emerged, feeling almost ready to meet the challenges of the day, Tony was no longer in the bedroom.  
  
For a couple of seconds Gibbs was worried that he'd taken off, but the little pile of rumpled clothing in the middle of the bedroom floor made him remember that Tony didn't have any clean clothes to wear. Gibbs quickly dressed in jeans and a green polo shirt, stripped the bed, gathered Tony's clothes and his own soiled garments from the hamper, and headed downstairs with the load of laundry in his arms. The smell of coffee emanating from the kitchen was enticing, but Gibbs put the clothes and sheets in the washing machine and started its cycle before he went looking for Tony.  
  
He wasn't hard to find.  
  
Lying on the large oak kitchen table, flat on his back, was Tony, hair disheveled, wearing only his red briefs and nipple rings. His long legs, bent at the knees, dangled over the edge of the table. Gibbs stopped a couple of feet away, wide-eyed and dry-mouthed.  
  
***end chapter 5***


	6. Breakfast

Lying on the dining table, Tony turned his head and met Gibbs' eyes, smiling slowly. The way he looked at him from under his long eyelashes told Gibbs that the young man knew damned well the effect he had on him. Gibbs wanted to reach out and touch him but he couldn't move. He was nailed to the spot, only a couple of feet from where Tony lay, unable to even run his hands along that warm, smooth expanse of skin that Tony was exhibiting so wantonly. All he could do was watch and whisper, "Jesus…," as Tony began to caress himself.

Casually, Tony slid both of his hands up the bare skin of his belly, fingers lightly skimming his ribs and then grazing the small gold rings piercing his rosy nipples. "You know, I think about you all the time," said Tony softly, as if he was speaking fondly of some long-ago memory. "I think about the way you kissed me the first time by the pool, with the inside of your mouth all wet and silky, your tongue so hot. I was so turned on by the way you took over the kiss, showed me who's the boss. I knew who you were from the way you kissed me. I understood you, could taste your desire, sweet and forbidden." His voice dropping an octave, Tony said huskily, "I wanted you right then and there and if you'd taken me, stuck your big dick inside me, with my father watching, I would have screamed your name so loud he'd have known who I _really_ belonged to."

Tony's fingers played with the rings on his chest, his tongue darting in and out of his pink lips in time with every tweak of his nipples. "Smelling coffee on your skin makes me shiver, makes me hard. I love your strength, your weight when you lie on top of me, the way you're all hard and all man, a Marine, a federal agent. And when you touch me, and your rough fingers explore my body, they're so gentle and you stroke me like you're loving me with your hands." His fingertips circled his nipples, rubbing and skimming around and then across them, flicking at the rings. "I'm very sensitive, you know. Here, on my nipples, and down here, too."

He tucked one hand inside his briefs to fondle his genitals, and at the same time pulled so hard on one of the gold rings on his chest that the distended nub of his nipple puckered at the torture. A whimper of pain escaped and Tony cried out through trembling lips, "Oh God! I'm leaking because I want you so bad. I'm so hard, harder than I've ever been for anyone, Jethro, and all it'll take for me to come is to think about your slick cock sliding into me, so big I'm afraid I won't be able to take it all, so hot and heavy I think I'm going to die, and then you move and I can feel your heat thrusting in and out of me, claiming me as yours, and I can't breathe. All because of you. _You_ do this to me." The red briefs grew taut over Tony's burgeoning erection, and Gibbs watched, fascinated, as Tony's hand stroked and fisted his cock under the fabric. He moaned and his hips lifted slightly off the table, his back arching, and then his breath stuttered and he called out Jethro's name in a plea. "Jethro, Jethro…oh, Jethro…"

Gibbs had never seen anything like it - in broad daylight, in his kitchen, on top of his dining table, for Chrissake! He'd never been so turned on, so fucking hard, so frozen in place and unable to do anything except watch as Tony masturbated while chanting his name as if it was some kind of fucking mantra.

"Oh God, Jethro…uuuh…" Never breaking eye contact with Gibbs, Tony moaned deeply, stiffened and came, his cock twitching and pulsating inside his red briefs, now with a wet patch soaking through the fabric. Breathing hard, Tony swallowed and licked his lips. He swallowed and asked in a sultry voice, "You want coffee…breakfast…or d'you want me?" His hand emerged from his underwear, wet and shiny with his come, perfumed with his own musky scent. Tony raised his fingers to his mouth and, making obscene sucking noises, licked them clean.

"Jesus." Gibbs came to life. He took a step towards Tony, dragged him bodily off the table and into his arms. "You are coming with me…and don't say another word!"

***end chapter 6***


	7. Washing

"Strip," Gibbs directed, as he hastily removed his own clothing. Tony did as he was told and handed over his soiled red underwear, then watched Gibbs toss it into the washing machine along with the rest of his laundry. The lid of the washer dropped shut with a metallic slam, punctuating Gibbs' order, "Sit on top."

Tony looked at Gibbs with a little apprehension. "Why?"

"When I give you an order, you obey it. Understand?" At Tony's nod, Gibbs grabbed him around the waist and hoisted him atop the machine, now vibrating noisily in its wash cycle.

Tony wriggled and complained, "It's cold."

In reply Gibbs smiled and said, "Not for long." He slid his hands into Tony's hair and pulled him close for a kiss. Their mouths met hungrily with Gibbs demanding more, angling his head and capturing Tony's tongue while his hands explored the smooth skin of his back. Once Tony started making those little noises of pleasure in the back of his throat that sounded slightly desperate, Gibbs wrapped his arms around him, dominating the kiss. He fleetingly wondered how he was going to keep up with Tony, even if he did make Gibbs as randy as all get-out. But they were both horny and Tony's hardening cock was pressing against his stomach, and at that moment all Gibbs wanted was to fuck Tony right where he sat on the chugging washing machine. Gibbs broke the kiss, breathing hard and ready to rock-and-roll, but he realized they didn't have any lube or protection at hand.

Panting, his eyes dark with need, Tony pointed towards the kitchen. "I stashed some in there."

"Stay," Gibbs ordered. He ran naked into the kitchen and frantically searched several kitchen cabinets before finding condoms and a tube of lube in the medicine cabinet next to the fridge. Back in the laundry, he hastily ripped open a condom packet. Tony tried to help by rolling it onto his dick but, afraid that Tony's touch would make him lose his load before he got his dick up his ass, Gibbs slapped the helpful hands away, saying sharply, "Don't!" It had been a long time since he'd been so worked up and here he was trembling like teenager. Gibbs coated himself with lube and dropped the tube at his feet.

Tony grabbed Gibbs' shoulders and slid his bottom to the edge of the washing machine, hooking his legs around the older man's back. His cock jutted out, leaking and impatient. "C'mon, I want you in me," he said insistently. "Make me scream."

Without any preparation or finesse, Gibbs lined himself up, breached and entered Tony with a loud grunt. Gibbs had never been a noisy lover, but with Tony his inhibitions flew out the window.

The angle was awkward at first but Tony spread his knees wide to take Gibbs' cock in as deep as he could, bracing himself with one hand on the edge of the vibrating washing machine. He dug his heels into Gibbs' back and urged, through gritted teeth, "Harder, damn it fuck me Jethro, damn it, deeper! There…there…" Tony liked it rough, there was no doubt about that, the way his head went back and his lips parted, and every thrust that Gibbs made, deep into his body, was punctuated with Tony's cries of, "Yes…yes…Gibbs…that's it…"

Gibbs leaned into Tony, pounding him so hard that he felt as though he was going to tear the young man in half. But the friction, the slick heat surrounding his dick, the sound of his balls slapping against Tony's ass, all made him mindless with need. He found himself shouting, "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" in time to his grinding thrusts. Sliding one hand from Tony's hip to his groin, Gibbs stroked the his rigid, veined cock, slowly increasing the speed adding a twist, his thumb rubbing across the tip to draw a gasp and shudder out of Tony. "That's my boy, so good, so damned good. Come on, come… " Gibbs groaned, withdrew and gave a few hard thrusts, knowing he hit the right spot when Tony cried out loudly and dug his fingers into Gibbs' shoulder.

"Gibbs!" Tony arched his back, muscles tensed and eyes closed tight, an exclamation bursting from his lips as he climaxed hard, his come splashing across their chests in spurts.

Gibbs gripped Tony's hipbones and jerked a couple more times before he came with waves of pleasure and pain clashing together in a crescendo that left him gasping for air, his chest heaving. "Jesus," Gibbs groaned on an exhalation. He staggered and collapsed on the floor in an ungainly heap, with Tony still clinging to him, impaled on his dick. Breathing hard, Tony straddled Gibbs' lap and rested his head on his shoulder. Tony placed a hot, open-mouthed kiss on Gibbs' neck that clearly said 'thank you.' After a moment Gibbs found his voice and asked, "You okay?"

Tony nodded and smiled. "Oh yeah." After a couple of minutes he recouped enough to point over his shoulder at the noisy washing machine and said, "Bet that's the best action your washer's ever seen."

"The hell with that old tub. What about me?"

"You've got great action, too, Jethro."

"Damn right I do," Gibbs said with a chuckle, so damned happy and exhausted he was almost giddy.

Tony laughed and draped himself heavily over Gibbs, arms around his shoulders, head resting on his shoulder. "I love you, Jethro," he breathed into the skin of his neck.

Wanting to respond, but at a loss for words and unsure of the depth of his feelings, Gibbs moved to get out from under his young lover, who was no lightweight despite being slim. "Gotta get up now, Tony."

Tony stopped him. "No, stay in me. Don't want to let you go." His eyes half-closed, Tony slid his fingers through Gibbs' hair, and kissed his cheeks and chin, and each corner of his mouth with little murmurs of contentment. "Please, please. Just a little longer."

Gibbs suckled along Tony's jaw and throat. The scent of sex was strong, and he licked at Tony's drying come on his smooth-skinned chest and collarbone. Then his mouth sought Tony's lips once more, and they kissed and Gibbs sucked tenderly on Tony's tongue until he had to pull back for air. He rested his forehead against Tony's and looked into his eyes, loving the sated expression in their green depths. Regretfully Gibbs said, "Tony, I can't sit here any longer. My back…"

"Oh, sorry." One more kiss and then Tony wiggled his hips and Gibbs' dick slipped out of him. He rose to his feet with only the slightest wince, joined hands with Gibbs and hauled him to his feet. Gibbs dealt with the condom, and they gave their bodies a cursory wipe with a towel and then went upstairs, Gibbs guiding Tony towards the bathroom with a hand resting gently on the nape of his neck. Tony followed Gibbs into the shower stall but if he thought he was going to fool around, he was mistaken. Gibbs was all business, efficiently soaping and rinsing both of them off so fast that they were standing on the bathmat, dried off and ready to put some clothes on, all in the amount of time it normally took Tony to decide which shampoo he was going to use.

***

Gibbs dressed quickly and then rummaged around in the closet for something for Tony to wear. He pulled out a pair of faded blue jeans and a long-sleeved white t-shirt. "See if those fit," he said while he chose a hooded gray sweatshirt that said 'Marines' across the chest, and tossed it in Tony's direction. After a quick trip to the linen closet Gibbs was back, and set about making up the bed with fresh sheets.

Tony stood in the middle of Gibbs' bedroom, naked, holding the borrowed clothing to his chest. He smoothed his hair down with his free hand and shifted his weight, waiting for Gibbs to notice him.

Gibbs had almost finished making up the bed when it struck him how unnaturally quiet Tony was being. Tony looked like he wanted to say something; it wasn't like him to hold back. "You need an invitation, DiNozzo?"

"Uh, I don't mind going commando, Jethro, but…"

"You want something, just ask." Gibbs shook his head and found his weekend guest a pair of white boxers. "Those gonna cramp your style?" he asked in a slightly sarcastic undertone.

"They're fine, because they're yours," Tony said looking pleased. He dressed in the jeans, which were just about long enough, and the borrowed t-shirt, and then asked if he could also have some socks before he took a pair from Gibbs' dresser drawer.

While he dressed, Gibbs tided the room and watched Tony out of the corner of his eye. He was a bit puzzled over the change in behavior. At first Tony had been as sexually blatant as all get-out, draping himself on the dining table and performing his lewd one-man act, but now he was standing there, all gawky to the point of almost being shy. Gibbs didn't have a degree in psychology but he knew people pretty well and had a knack for assessing them. He'd also seen his share of kids, and adults too, who'd suffered from a sickening variety of abuse. Gibbs wondered, with a deep, growing anger, exactly what Tony's father had done to him over the years. Any man who harmed a child, particularly his own flesh and blood, deserved the worst of punishments as far as Gibbs was concerned. It was unfathomable that anyone could actually hurt Tony.

Tony was an overachiever when it came to pleasing his elders, and for all the wrong reasons. The young man could put on quite a show, offering himself as the main event, just as his father had trained him to do from an early age. Gibbs thought back to the ripe-for-picking Anthony DiNozzo Jr. he'd met last summer by the pool on his father's estate. Tony had been slathered in expensive suntan lotion, talking a mile a minute, offering Gibbs, a veritable stranger, whatever it was he most desired.

But just last night there was the same young man, in trouble at a police station, far from home, hurt but trying hard not to show it and looking more like a lost sixteen-year-old than an athletic college student. Maybe that kid was the real Tony, the boy who transformed into a sexually charged young adult as a way of covering up. It seemed more than just an act though, more like a protective skin safeguarding the fragile person within. Gibbs had a feeling they were both sides of the same coin and he'd bet a buck that Tony rarely showed that vulnerable side to anyone. He wasn't sure why Tony had allowed Gibbs to see that side of him, or why he trusted him - and now apparently thought he loved him. All Gibbs knew was that it made him feel all the more protective of the young man, and he swore he'd do whatever it took to keep him safe.

Once Tony was dressed, holding the sweatshirt in one hand, Gibbs walked around him, looking him over as if he was conducting a military inspection. The bruises on Tony's neck and jaw were still apparent but a lock of light brown hair half-covered the bruise on his temple. The borrowed clothing fit well enough. Gibbs grunted his approval but then he reached out and skimmed his fingers across Tony's chest, finding bumps from the nipple rings under his white t-shirt. "Lose those. We're going out."

Tony lifted his shirt and did as he was told, then slipped the rings into the change pocket in his jeans. "How come these fit me so well?" he asked indicating the jeans. He was a couple of inches taller than Gibbs, with longer legs.

"Bought the wrong size. I rolled up the cuffs and wore them around the house." Gibbs shrugged then his face softened in a smile. "You look good in them. They hug your butt," he said with a smirk and ruffled Tony's hair. Wearing the simple white shirt, and with his hair less-than-perfect, Tony looked more like a college student than he had at any time before.

Grinning, Tony's eyes traveled slowly up and down Gibbs' body. "You look damned good yourself, Jethro."

Gibbs raised one finger in warning and glowered at Tony, who looked good enough to eat. "Don't even think about it, Tony. I need coffee. Lots of coffee. And breakfast. Then we go out. I gotta buy wood and hardware for the boat."

He moved resolutely past Tony and headed down to the kitchen with the younger man on his heels asking excitedly, "Boat? What boat? You have a boat?"

***end chapter 7***


	8. Hardwood

Gibbs swore his dick had never been so damned hard, so often, in all his life. It seemed that Tony could find something suggestive to say about every tool and piece of wood in the hardware store, and in such a way he appeared to be innocent. Not only did Tony talk non-stop about hardwoods, power tools, nailing, stripping, and more, but he touched, stroked, and damn-well fondled everything within arms' reach, even going so far as to provocatively sniff the various wood species with a smile on his face. Tony stayed close to Gibbs, apparently listening with half an ear as Gibbs and a salesman in the lumber department discussed the best wood for the boat's decking and trim.

The salesman, a grizzled man in his sixties whose nametag announced he was 'Roger,' and who knew Gibbs because he was a frequent customer, leaned on the counter. As they talked his eyes strayed past Gibbs' shoulder every now and then, and he'd frown a little. Gibbs didn't have to look back to know that it was Tony who was attracting Roger's attention. He was sure that Tony was up to no good but he wasn't going to allow any distractions to interrupt his current business.

Roger eventually nodded in Tony's direction and asked Gibbs, "You got a helper today, have ya?"

With a snort Gibbs replied, "He's visiting but he's gonna earn his keep."

"If anyone can keep a young fellow in line, it's you, Gunny," Roger said with a knowing laugh. "I'll go write up your order so you can get outta here."

Once he had completed his business, Gibbs pivoted to view Tony. He was only a few feet away, slouching next to a large display of power tools, apparently day-dreaming if the glazed look in his eyes was any indicator. Tony held a large hammer in one hand and was absent-mindedly rubbing the base of its handle up and down his inner thigh, the upstroke coming way too close to his crotch for Gibbs' comfort. Also, Gibbs belatedly realized, the bruises on Tony's temple and neck, including the marks obviously made by a man's fingers on either side of his throat, stood out under the glare of the store's bright lights. No wonder Roger had been staring.

Gibbs barked, "Tony, front and center!"

Startled, Tony flushed, grabbed a glossy brochure from the display and held it in front of him when he stepped forward. "Yeah, Boss? Hey, you see all those cool power tools?"

Gibbs scowled and walked around behind the young man, stopping when he came even with Tony's shoulder. "If you've finished playing with the power tools, DiNozzo, ya think you can help me load the lumber into my truck?"

Tony turned his head and eyes towards Gibbs and saluted in one smart motion. "Yes Gunny, happy to help."

"Gunny?" Gibbs asked, as if demanding what gave Tony the right to call him that.

Not abashed in the slightest, Tony replied, "That's what the old guy called you, wasn't it? You were a gunnery sergeant?"

Gibbs wasn't sure if he liked Tony calling him Gunny or not; Shannon had called him that sometimes and it didn't feel right coming from Tony's mouth. "And you attended Rhode Island Military Academy, DiNozzo?" The salute had been made with the kind of precision that spoke of practice.

Tony blinked a couple of times and then relaxed with a grin. "Aw, you read up on me, Jethro. Now you know all my dirty secrets. That's not fair." He tipped his head to one side, weighing how much Gibbs really knew about him. "I will bet that my background check didn't tell you anything about the girls' academy that was just down the road, and how we'd sneak out on a school night, did it? Want the details to add to my file?" He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Gibbs swatted Tony lightly on the back of his head and glowered at him from under his brows. "You finished tripping down memory lane?" He'd looked into Tony's background when he'd investigated his father the previous summer, and although he'd discovered plenty about the young man's schooling, friends and family prior to meeting him, nothing had prepared him for Tony's seductive power.

Tony shrugged, unfazed by Gibbs' tough stance and curt way of speaking to him. "Sure, but I'd like to hear all about your days as a hot, young Marine, Gibbs. Sweaty maneuvers, hand-to-hand combat, bunking with all those Marines." Tony licked his lips and said, not missing a beat, "By the way, there's a power sander over there that says it'll get the job done a whole lot faster than sanding by hand, though you might have to sacrifice some control."

"I only use hand tools," Gibbs pointed out. "Believe me, I don't give up any control." He watched Tony's eyes widen and was fascinated to see his breathing speed up. Before they'd left the house that morning he'd taken Tony down to the basement to show him the boat he was building. Tony had been awed and had, of course, asked how Gibbs was going to get it out but Gibbs had only smiled. "When I use my hands I can take it slow and easy, stroke the wood back and forth, feel my way," Gibbs said in a low voice.

Tony ducked his head and looked the floor as if he was abashed, so Gibbs waited to see what was going on. Tony looked up at him from under his eyelashes and squirmed but he didn't say anything.

Gibbs asked, "You waiting for a kick in the ass, DiNozzo?"

"Uh, no." Tony shifted his weight to his other hip then leaned so close to Gibbs that their cheeks were almost brushing against each other. He whispered in Gibbs' ear, "I've got this really bad boner, Boss, and my pants are too tight for me to get my hand in the pocket to take care of it. D'you think maybe I'm allergic to sawdust or something?" With a playful look he held the brochure away from his groin just enough so Gibbs could see the bulge in his borrowed blue jeans. "Or maybe it's 'cause I'm wearing your underwear and every time I move I imagine it's your fingers stroking my ass."

"Jesus." Gibbs' cheeks reddened, and his dick twitched at the images flashing through his mind. He stepped back and said brusquely, "Looks like we both need to sweat this out." At a hopeful leer from Tony, Gibbs snarled, "Tuck it into your waistband, DiNozzo. I'm talkin' about old-fashioned manual labor." Gibbs turned on his heel and headed for the loading bay. "And put that hammer back where you found it." He didn't look back, confident that Tony was on his six.

Following Gibbs' lead, Tony helped to load the lengths of wood into the back of the pickup, although after he'd squealed and whined that he had two big splinters in his palms, Gibbs tossed a pair of work gloves his way. Gibbs found it strange that Tony made such a fuss over a couple of splinters yet had never made any complaint about the bruises he sustained when he was mugged. The bruise on his ribs must hurt every time he lifted his arms.

As soon as the wood was secured they were on the road. "I have some more errands to do," Gibbs said. "Afterwards, you want to tour the monuments and do some touristy stuff?"

Looking up from picking at a sliver of wood embedded in the heel of his palm, Tony asked hesitantly, "You know what I really want?" Gibbs sent him a sideways look and glanced at Tony's crotch, which appeared to have recovered from its earlier excitement, making the younger man laugh. "No, not that, Jethro. Well, I do want some of that, but later. Right now I could really go for some pizza."

"Breakfast was only a couple of hours ago, Tony."

"Hey, I'm a growing boy and I have a big appetite."

Gibbs hid his amusement but he couldn't deny that being with Tony made him very happy, and that he enjoyed being able to take care of him, even if it was only for the weekend. It was funny how drastically things could change in so short a time. Only a couple of days ago Gibbs had thought that the high point of his weekend would be to have a few free hours to work on his boat, but instead here he was simply enjoying the company of the young man at his side. Gibbs sighed loudly for show, and begrudgingly agreed, "Pizza it is then."

***

They stopped in the next town and Tony ate most of the large cheese, sausage and pepperoni pizza they ordered. Gibbs managed to secure a couple of slices for himself, and was good to go after an extra-large dose of caffeine. Once they were back in the truck, with another coffee for the road in hand, Gibbs said, "Going to look at a restoration supply place up in Woodland Falls." Tony was happy to go along with Gibbs and he said so. During the hour-long trip Tony kept busy making comments as they passed through the towns on the back roads Gibbs took: dating girls at college, old movie theaters, architecture, the biology test he had to study up for, his frat brothers' antics, the recent Cavaliers game and their chance of winning the division, and the stomach bug that sidelined the entire swim team last month. He went on to ask Gibbs about everything from his military background to how to process a crime scene. Although Gibbs wasn't an avid conversationalist by any means, he found himself at ease talking to Tony and responded to his inquisitive nature. He liked teaching so long as the questions weren't stupid and he didn't have to repeat himself.

The way Tony sought out and absorbed information, as if he was squirreling it away for another day, reminded Gibbs of his daughter, Kelly. Like Tony, she had been interested in the strangest things. She had always pestered her dad with questions, some of which Gibbs hadn't known the answer to. If he didn't have a clue he'd make something up with a straight face, getting a kick out of it when Kelly figured out he'd been pulling her leg. A sense of loss hit him hard as Gibbs thought about his little girl, and he gripped the steering wheel tight enough to make his knuckles whiten. He sensed when Tony noticed his distress, so he eased his grip and asked Tony a question as a means of deflection. Tony sent him a few sideways glances but Gibbs kept his eyes front and center. He wasn't about to share thoughts about his loved ones with anyone, and he sure as hell didn't want Tony's sympathy. It was still all too raw, and he simply wasn't the kind of man to talk about himself or his feelings.

For the first time since he'd rescued Tony, Gibbs thought about Joan, the woman who he was pretty sure he intended to ask to be his wife. Now he was seriously reconsidering that move. Ever since Tony had walked into his life everything seemed to have changed. Definitely for the better, but no matter how good it was, it couldn’t be for the long term. Tony was young and handsome and full of life, and the last thing the youth needed was to hang around someone like him. Someone so much older, was what Gibbs really thought. Okay, a dozen years wasn't a deal-breaker, but…

Tony would be going back to college tomorrow afternoon, and the young man would slip back into his old routine of frat brothers, studies and sports, just as if this weekend had never happened. Gibbs sucked in a breath - it literally hurt when he thought of Tony leaving, and that he'd most likely never see him again.

"You okay, Jethro?" Tony was frowning with concern.

Gibbs brushed his maudlin thoughts aside. It was the present that was important and the rest of the weekend belonged to them, and to them alone. He just said, "Yeah, I'm okay. We're here." He wasn't going to elaborate but as he pulled his truck into the parking area outside the restoration supply building, Gibbs reached for Tony's hand and briefly squeezed it. "I'm glad we have this time together."

Tony's response was a wide, bright smile from his heart. He didn't have to say anything; Gibbs understood that the feeling was mutual.

***

They had just finished poking around in the old building that held room after room of rescued hardware - doors and hinges and decorative bits and pieces - that went back a century or two, and were back at Gibbs' truck when his phone rang. "Gibbs," he said curtly. He motioned for Tony to secure the box containing the brass latches he'd purchased for his boat in the back of the truck alongside the lumber. "Yeah. Give me the location." He grabbed his notebook and a pencil off the dashboard and jotted down directions. "Tyler's Corner…uh huh. Got it. On my way, Boss." He hung up and explained, "Got called to a scene, Tony."

Gibbs pulled out of the parking lot, wondering what the hell he was going to do with Tony while he was working. The crime scene location was too far from his house to contemplate backtracking just to drop Tony off. Maybe find a movie theater where he could while away a few hours? No, no way was he going to leave Tony alone anywhere. With his luck, he would get into trouble again. Not that Gibbs didn't trust Tony to behave if he set parameters for him. It was just that Gibbs had firsthand knowledge of how enticing the young man could be, and all it would take would be for one unscrupulous person and…and he didn't want to think about what might happen…not now. He had to focus.

Gibbs took the fastest route to Tyler's Corner and, accelerating around a slow-moving car, he asked, "Want to learn how to process a crime scene, DiNozzo?"

*** end chapter 8***


	9. Crime

A half-mile before they reached their destination, Gibbs pulled over to the side of the road. Tony was in the middle of a soliloquy about a movie he'd seen recently, something about killers and dogs at a reservoir, and didn't seem to be running out of steam anytime soon. Gibbs interrupted him, demanding, "DiNozzo! Can you shut up for a minute?"

Tony appeared a little wounded at Gibbs' tone, but he replied mildly, "Yes, Boss. I'm all ears."

Gibbs twisted in his seat to find Tony regarding him intently. "This is really important," Gibbs began, hoping he wasn't making a monumental mistake in taking Tony with him to the crime scene. Tony nodded and waited expectantly, so Gibbs continued, "These people, my boss and the others, they cannot know about us. Not even a hint."

"Okay."

That was too easy, Gibbs thought. He spoke slowly in order to get his point across clearly and succinctly, and in terms he hoped Tony could relate to. "If they find out, Tony, I will end up in prison getting fucked over by some guy called Hamburger."

"Grossberger. It's Grossberger, Boss. _Stir Crazy_ , 1980." Tony bit his lower lip to prevent himself from smiling. "You made a movie reference, Jethro. I'm so proud of you." Tony smiled, amusement lighting up his eyes and making Gibbs want to alternately kiss him and shake him.

Gibbs raised his voice and it sounded louder than he'd intended in the cab of the truck. "This isn't some damned movie, Tony!"

"I understand, really I do. When we get there, do I have to stay in the truck or can I tag along?"

Gibbs considered leaving Tony in the pickup and taking the risk that someone might stop to talk to the young man without him being present. The alternative, which was just as fraught with danger, was to keep him close to his side. Then everybody could see Tony, and there were sure to be curious eyes and questions, especially with his bruised face and neck, but at least then Gibbs might have some control over the situation. "You can stick with me--" Tony's eyes brightened and he began to speak but Gibbs cut him off, insisting, "You stay on my six, Tony. Don't talk or bring any attention to yourself." Gibbs almost laughed as soon as he said that.

As if Tony wasn't going to attract attention just by being who he was, looking damned sexy without even trying. God, would people be able to see right through them, see that he'd been fucking him? A flash of memory struck Gibbs so strong it felt as if it was real; he could practically feel himself embedded to the hilt inside Tony's firm ass, while the washing machine thumped away beneath him. The sudden ache in his cock was unbearable and he had to adjust himself. Gibbs rubbed his forearm across his sweaty forehead, and took a deep breath.

Sitting there, so close that he could smell the aroma of pizza on Tony's breath, and see the excited glitter in his green eyes, Gibbs was torn between wanting to be at the crime scene doing his job, and having sex with Tony, preferably with the kid pinned face down on the kitchen table while he thrust into him until he came, shouting obscenities into his ear.

"Are you okay, Jethro?"

"No, I have lost my fucking mind," Gibbs retorted testily.

Tony eyed him warily but kept his mouth shut.

Gibbs ran a hand through his hair and took a deep cleansing breath. "Shouldn't have shouted at you," he said by way of apology. Using every ounce of willpower, Gibbs suppressed his sexual urges and forced himself back to the matter at hand. "All right. Nobody can know your real name, DiNozzo. My boss, Special Agent Franks, he knows the case of the missing seaman, Jacobs, that the one that led me to your father. He knows it as well as I do. If Franks finds out who you are it'll take him two seconds to figure out we're…"

Tony smiled at Gibbs' hesitation. "He'll figure out we're lovers? You can say it aloud. I'm not shy."

"Oh, I know that, DiNozzo. I was going to say he'll figure out we're involved." He sort of liked the way that sounded. 'Involved' covered a lot of bases without being too specific.

Tony grinned, showing a nice set of white teeth, and Gibbs was reminded of DiNozzo Sr. and his shark-like smile. Only Tony was nothing like his father, he assured himself.

Obviously enjoying himself, Tony asked, "So what's my undercover name?"

"Has to be close to your own name. How about DiNardo or…?"

Before Gibbs could make any further suggestions, Tony mused, "How about DiMento? DiFonzzo? I've used DiFonzzo as an alias before, when I was...uh, you don't need to know about that now."

Gibbs stared at him. He'd have to hear more about Tony's need for an alias later. "This is crazy. It isn't going to work." He shook his head ruefully. What the hell was he going to do?

Tony took hold of Gibbs' hand. "I would never jeopardize your career, Gibbs," he said sincerely. Gibbs tried to draw away but Tony held on, his grip firm. "It's okay, Jethro. I can do this. I really want to watch you at work, and I can hold my own. I'll be Tony DiFonzzo if anyone asks. I'm the son of an old friend from your Marine unit, and I'm thinking of changing my major to criminal science. You're showing me the ropes. I won't volunteer any information they don't need to know. It's okay."

Gibbs stared at Tony's hand. His fingers were long and lean and there were fair hairs on his wrist. Why hadn't he seen that before? He hadn't even noticed that Tony had retained the hair on his arms although he'd removed it from the rest of his body. Tony squeezed his hand and Gibbs looked up to find he was encompassed by a warm, confident smile. How could Tony be so unruffled? Even though he knew time was wasting, Gibbs took a moment to begrudgingly return the smile before he grew serious once more. "You be careful, DiNozzo, especially of Mike Franks. He's been up the pike a few times. These people are damned good investigators and if they get even a hint that something is off they'll start to dig and they'll find out and I don't want…I can't…" He was suddenly very afraid of losing Tony.

"Boss?"

"What?"

"Focus?"

Gibbs nodded. They didn't have much time and he had to make sure that Tony got the lowdown on everyone. "Jenny Shepard: she's new but she's a woman and they see things differently. Watch out for her. Stan Burley's a good agent. He doesn't have street smarts but he's been around enough politicians to know a lie when it's in his face, so play it cool around him, DiNozzo. Don't assume anything."

"Jethro?"

"And Ducky, our ME, he might look mild but--."

Tony interrupted loudly, "Jethro, can I say something?"

"What, DiNozzo?" Gibbs spat impatiently.

"You have got to stop calling me DiNozzo."

"Shit," Gibbs said with a sigh. He watched as Tony settled back in his seat with a gleam of anticipation in his eye, and he wondered if all the fucking they'd been doing had somehow addled his brain. "Okay, DiFonzzo."

"Okay, Agent Gibbs."

Gibbs started his truck and pulled out onto the road. Within a few minutes they were at the crime scene, surrounded by local cops and NCIS agents, all focused on the body of man in a fatigues who had a knife in his back and lay face down in a large pool of blood on the driveway in front of a large family home. Gibbs spotted Shepard but nobody else from Franks' team.

Tony's eyes widened at the sight of the body. "Wow, it's like Clue: Colonel Mustard in the driveway with the knife."

***

As soon as they'd stepped out of the pickup Gibbs handed Tony an official NCIS jacket to wear over his hooded Marines sweatshirt, and pulled out an NCIS ball cap for himself. He marched straight over to Special Agent Franks, with Tony on his six as if he belonged there, and introduced the young man. "Old friend's son," Gibbs said. "Tony Di--."

Tony stepped around Gibbs and shook Franks' hand with a pleasant smile. "Hi, Tony DiFonzzo, with two Zs. Agent Gibbs has been so much help, really encouraging. This is just great! I cannot wait to start my class in crime scene analysis next semester."

Gibbs was concerned that Franks wouldn't allow Tony to remain at the scene. Franks stopped to light a cigarette, and squinted at Tony through his exhaled smoke. After looking Tony up and down, Franks let out a bark of a laugh. "Huh, so our Probie's got a probie now? Slick move, Cowboy. Well, we're light-handed today. Burley's back at the Yard, starting on the backgrounds. No sense in pulling him all the way out here."

Gibbs nodded. He and Mike Franks had worked alone for months before Shepard and Burley had joined the team so he had no problem conducting the investigation with three agents instead of four. Burley was best at paperwork and research, anyway. Searching through reams of fingerprint files made Gibbs' eyes glaze over within minutes but Stan could keep at it for hours without lagging. They all had their own strengths and skills, and complemented each other; that was what made them such a good team.

"DiFonzzo can stay so long as he is accompanied by an agent at all times," Franks said with a growl. "He touches nothing, and keeps the hell outta my hair."

Tony's eyes went to Franks' receding hairline and the corner of his mouth twitched but Gibbs sent him a sharp look. He was smart enough not to crack the joke that was obviously on the tip of his tongue.

Normally Gibbs would have been insulted that he'd allow anything to compromise a crime scene or investigation, but then he had brought a civilian to the scene. That Franks had allowed Tony to even get out of the truck meant that he trusted Gibbs' judgment in bringing his young friend along.

Franks walked Gibbs over to the body with Tony trailing behind attentively. The deceased was lying face down next to his car, dressed in fatigues, with what appeared to be his own knife buried to the hilt in his back. There were several bloody wounds in the man's back. "We got here twenty minutes ago," Franks said, "so we've only done the preliminaries. The family reported finding the body at 1200. He is Marine Lance Corporal Franklin Parrish."

The senior NCIS agent continued, "Guess he ain't gonna make the meeting he was supposed to be attending this afternoon, back in DC. Parrish was too low in rank to be into anything sensitive, his CO says, but I'll go talk to him later, mano a mano." He went on to relay to Gibbs any pertinent information the LEOs had given him. Two uniformed cops were standing by their squad car, which contained a young male occupant in the back seat. Even from a distance it was obvious the youth was pissed off at something. "Stepson of the deceased, son of Mrs. Parrish," Franks explained. Another pair of cops was stationed at the end of the long driveway, keeping the gathering neighbors and sightseers at bay.

Jenny walked up and handed the camera bag to Gibbs. She told him that she hadn't yet taken any photos of the scene, meanwhile staring at Tony with undisguised curiosity. Gibbs didn't offer any introductions so she held out her hand to Tony in a straightforward manner and said, "Special Agent Jenny Shepard."

Tony glanced at Gibbs for permission to introduce himself to the young redheaded agent, and received a warning look along with a slight nod. Smiling, and somehow managing to appear unworldly, Tony shook her hand, and answered her questions: Yes, he was staying with Agent Gibbs for the weekend. Yes, he was at college. No, he'd never been to a crime scene before but he was looking forward to learning from the best. That was said with an expression of deference while meeting Jenny's eyes, which the female agent ate up.

Gibbs liked the polite manner Tony had when speaking to the NCIS agents. The young man knew how to catch flies with honey without making it obvious and it crossed Gibbs' mind that Tony would probably be good at undercover work.

"Shepard," Franks said. "See if you can get anything else out of the girl and her mother." He stared at Tony for a long moment and then instructed, "And take Probie's probie with you. Only to observe." To an excited Tony, the senior agent said menacingly, "You touch anything in my crime scene and I'll cut your fingers off so you won't be able to flog the hog ever again. That clear, DiFonzzo with two Zs?"

"Crystal, Special Agent Franks." Despite the threat from senior agent, Tony grinned. "Does this make me an official probie?"

Jenny Shepard, the real probie, who for some reason had never actually been referred to as a probie even if she was the youngest and freshest of their team, eyed Tony. Her gaze lingered on the young man's assets a little too long for Gibbs' liking. Gibbs began to say that Tony was going to remain with him when Jenny wrapped her hand around Tony's bicep and said, "I'm sure we'll get along just fine."

Tony went with her, a smile on his face. He looked back at Gibbs, his shrug indicating he was helpless but his grin making it apparent that he was thoroughly enjoying the attention.

Gibbs rolled his shoulders to ease the tension in them and started taking photos of the crime scene, praying that their charade didn't get blown sky high.

***

Somehow Gibbs managed to do his job without acting suspiciously. He felt as though there was a huge red arrow hovering over his head, pointing down at his thick skull and proclaiming, 'guilty!' Guilty for having hot sex with a college kid. Guilty for being unable to work a crime scene without looking out of the corner of his eye to check on Tony every sixty seconds. Guilty of wanting every damned person to disappear so he could take Tony in his arms and kiss him. He felt so guilty that he found it hard to believe that everyone wasn't surrounding him, pointing their finger at him accusingly while yelling at him how disgusted they were. "Shit," he said under his breath. "What the hell am I doing? I am so screwed."

***end chapter 9***


	10. Bagged

"Probie!" Franks called Gibbs over in that sharp way he had, no matter whether he was in a good or bad mood.

Gibbs took one last photo of the deceased, straightened up from the crouching position that was wreaking hell on his knees. His back gave a sharp twinge and he made a mental note to stick to making love in a bed from now on. "Yeah, Boss?"

"Everything bagged and tagged? Photos taken?" Franks took a drag on his hand-rolled cigarette then held it cupped in his hand, letting the ashes drop into his palm so as not to contaminate the scene.

"Yeah. Inside and out. I took four rolls of film. Did the car and twenty feet around it." He had a routine that was thorough yet fast, perfected when just he and Franks had worked crime scenes alone, back in the early days of the squad. "When Ducky gets here it's all his." It was getting cooler with clouds coming over, and he really needed some more coffee. Gibbs looked towards the house, knowing there was a pot of coffee in the warm kitchen, but he didn't want to walk past the people talking on the front porch.

Franks jerked a thumb in Tony's direction. "Your boy there…he's got the gift of the gab."

Gibbs smiled wryly. "Yup." Tony was perched on the railing at the far end of the porch, looking right at home wearing the navy blue NCIS jacket. He was talking with the daughter, Melissa, leaning towards her, his body language indicating he was being sympathetic. The girl was standing before him, nodding and offering Tony a small smile, apparently no more immune to his charm than Gibbs was.

Jenny took a seat next to Tony on the railing, her hips and shoulders touching his, one hand resting on his thigh in an overtly familiar gesture. Tony turned towards Jenny with a smile, and did nothing to reject her.

Gibbs did not like what he was witnessing. Even though he'd only worked with Jenny for a short time, he was sure that she would try her damnedest to get into Tony's pants. Jenny Shepard might only be twenty-three but she already had a reputation for trying to sleep her way to the top. Having sex with Tony would be no more than a game to her, as the young man obviously wasn't a rung on her ladder to success. Her cavalier behavior would have annoyed Gibbs even if the object of her interest had not been his lover.

The petite redhead seemed to assume that she could lead Tony around by his dick solely because he was young and male, and would naturally be impressed by her. She had tried to win Gibbs over, right off the bat when she'd first joined the team, but when he'd made it clear he wasn't interested she'd had the good sense to back off. He made up a rule about not sleeping with teammates right then and there, even though it was an inadequate dam against the inevitable flow. It wasn't that Jenny wasn't attractive, more like he didn't shit where he ate. An affair with her wouldn't last long and there'd be all the ensuing drama to deal with in the aftermath. Besides, her daddy was Lieutenant Colonel Jaspar Shepard, who was known for trampling on anyone who got in his way. Gibbs had a feeling that the apple didn't fall far from the tree.

But here was Tony, encouraging Jenny, letting her touch him like that. Gibbs couldn’t help but see red, and the strength of his feelings surprised him; he was furiously jealous and was having a hard time keeping a lid on his anger. It was all he could do not to run over there, push Jenny out of the way, and drag Tony somewhere private so he could mark him as his own exclusive property.

Gibbs was about to go and remind Jenny that they were in the middle of an investigation, to tell her to get her hands the fuck off his Tony, when the redhead stepped in front of the younger man and started questioning the girl. Whatever she said caused the teenager to step back and run into the arms of a woman emerging from the front door. The girl's mother, Gibbs thought, Mrs. Parrish, now a widow. Even from a distance Gibbs could tell Tony was annoyed at Jenny's behavior from the way his shoulders tensed. Good, he thought. Maybe now Tony would keep her at a distance.

"Damn girl," Franks muttered, from right behind Gibbs.

He knew the team leader was referring to Jenny Shepard. Apparently Franks had also been watching the interaction on the porch. Ex-Marine Mike Franks had keen senses that had been honed in the jungles of Vietnam and not much got past him. Gibbs forced himself to relax and hoped his boss wasn't aware of his jealousy. He knew better than to bring emotions onto the job, but Tony's presence had set his world a bit off-kilter and Gibbs was having a bit of difficulty dealing with the balancing act.

Franks groused, "They tell me to bring her up to speed on field work, so that's what I'm doin', but the moment she's done with probation she's outta here."

Raising his eyebrows, Gibbs asked, "Jenny's being groomed for something special?"

Franks shrugged. "Recruited for overseas work, covert ops, or so Morrow says. He didn't elaborate and I don't give a damn so long as I don't have no more females under my boots. Now," he said, turning his attention to Gibbs, "give me a sit-rep so we can get the hell back to DC."

Gibbs reviewed the penciled notes in his small notebook. "Melissa, age fourteen, Lance Corporal Franklin Parrish's daughter, says she was watching TV midday. The family room is in the back of the house so it's feasible she didn't hear anything. The wife, Judy Ann Parrish, was cleaning the house. Vacuum on, didn't hear anything either. She and her kids discovered the body together at noon when they went to the garage to get in their car to go shopping. Ran over to Lance Cpl. Parrish and tried to revive him. They both touched the body, and the knife." Gibbs mentally rolled his eyes.

Franks said, "According to his CO, Parrish just accepted a transfer to Germany and was taking his wife and daughter with him." Franks jerked his thumb towards the youth sitting in the back of the police cruiser. "That is Bobby Edelstein. He's sixteen, and is Mrs. Parrish's son from a previous marriage. He kicked up a fuss when the cops got here and they tried to separate him from his mother and stepsister. They stuck him in the car to cool his heels." Franks scowled and added, "He was watching TV with Melissa and also touched the knife and the body."

Gibbs knew that meant all three possible witnesses, and suspects, had left fingerprints on the murder weapon. Great.

"And," Franks said, "Parrish's CO says the lance corporal made it clear he was not going to take his stepson with them to Germany. Mrs. Parrish was very upset."

Interesting. Gibbs took a look towards the house, where Mrs. Parrish stood with her arms wrapped protectively around her daughter. Tony was standing close, apparently trying to calm the teenage girl, with Jenny looking on. Gibbs asked, "Take them all back to the Yard?"

Franks nodded and stubbed out his cigarette. "Round 'em up as soon as the body's in the meat wagon." He looked down the driveway at the approach of a truck with NCIS emblazoned on its side. "Good, the ME's here. I'm going in the house to get some coffee and see if I can get the financial picture out of Mrs. Parrish. Apparently all of this comes from her side of the family," he said with a broad sweep of his arm to encompass the large house and property.

***

Tony joined Gibbs in the driveway, where he was watching the ME park his large truck. Gibbs knew they only had a couple of minutes alone before Dr. Mallard unpacked his equipment and joined them. "You learn anything, DiFonzzo?" Not caring if he sounded half as pissed as he really was, Gibbs asked acidly, "Other than how to play grab-ass with Jenny?" Tony quirked his head to one side, trying to gauge if Gibbs was really annoyed with him. Gibbs wasn't certain if it was a good thing or not, but he had a feeling that Tony was able to read him already, and after such a short time. Hardly anyone saw through him unless they'd known him for years, or had fought at his side. You learned fast when under fire.

Tony's look of contemplation changed into a smile. He lifted his chin and said, "Well, Agent Gibbs, I learned that just because you're a woman and a federal law enforcement agent with hundreds of hours of training at FLETC under your 24-inch-waist belt, including advanced techniques in witness interrogation, doesn't mean you have a clue how to talk to scared teenage girls. Jenny pressed too hard and too fast. Made the poor girl cry."

Gibbs raised his eyebrows. "And you know how to talk to scared teenage girls, do you, Dee-Fonzzo?" He stretched out Tony's assumed last name just to jerk his chain.

"Yes I do, Agent Gibbs, and the proof is that Melissa said I could look around her bedroom. You know how girls that age pin up posters of Guns N' Roses, Extreme, Kevin Costner in 'Robin Hood,' and 'Beauty and the Beast'? Okay I don't really expect you to know about pop culture, but trust me when I say teens pin all sorts of posters up in their rooms. I have to say though, I prefer Cocteau's 1946 version of 'La Belle a la Bête,' although I guess I can understand why a girl would find Ron Perlman's Vincent a more romantic beast. A lot less growly."

Gibbs got lost at 'Robin Hood.' "Your point being?"

"Yeah, well, this girl has all of those posters and pin-ups, but she also has at least two-dozen photos of one young man taped to her bedroom door."

Gibbs glared at Tony, annoyed at himself because he couldn't connect the dots. Exasperated, he said, "Okay, so what? More pop stars."

Tony laughed as if Gibbs had said something very funny. "Oh no. The photos I'm talking about are taped to the door _underneath_ her 'Beauty and the Beast' poster. Personal shots, 4x6 glossies. Hidden from Mom and Dad, but within easy access for one last adoring look at them before bed every night. Bet she kisses those photos goodnight." Tony grinned at Gibbs, pleased with his information.

"Just how do you know what's going on in that girl's mind?" Ducky passed by, carrying an equipment bag in each hand, which he dropped near Parrish's body. He nodded at Gibbs but didn't interrupt his conversation with Tony, and Gibbs briefly raised a hand in greeting.

"Why, Agent Gibbs, I know all about hiding photos of my secret love behind a mirror." Tony saw Gibbs' patience was wearing thin so he quickly said, "I'll tell you all about it another time. But you haven't asked me who the pictures are of." He bobbed up and down on his toes and waited anxiously for Gibbs to pose the right question. "Guess."

Gibbs barely refrained from rolling his eyes. "Okay, who are these photos of?"

Tony took hold of Gibbs' shoulders and forced him to turn around so he faced the police car further down the drive. He pointed at the young man being detained in the back seat. "They photos are of him. Bobby. The step-brother."

Dots were connected. Gibbs turned to meet Tony's eyes and slowly smiled. "You've earned yourself a treat, Tony."

Tony licked his lips and growled playfully. "Can't wait."

"Cool it. You go and help Dr. Mallard carry the rest of his equipment over. Looks like he's without an assistant today. I'm gonna talk to Franks."

Tony did as he was told and by the time he'd lugged the rest of the ME's gear and a gurney over to the body, he was chatting away with Dr. Mallard and they were on friendly terms.

Gibbs returned from telling Mike Franks about Tony's discovery, with a large cup of coffee in his hand, to find Tony listening with interest to Ducky's long-winded explanation of the correct usage of a liver probe. From his crouching position next to the body of Lance Cpl. Parrish, Dr. Mallard peered over the top of his eyeglasses at Gibbs and tutted. Gibbs wasn't sure what to make of that cryptic commentary but he had a suspicion it wasn't good.

Franks joined them just as the doctor completed his preliminary examination of the body. The ME refused to make any assumptions before he completed the autopsy. "I will not be able to determine which of the stab wounds to the corporal's back was the fatal blow, Agent Franks, until I--"

"--get him back to Autopsy," Franks and Gibbs finished up at the same time. The two men smiled a little, both familiar with Ducky's refusal to make an overhasty determination.

"However," Dr. Mallard said, "judging by the variation of depths of these stab wounds, and the slight tearing of this one, indicating a hesitation on the part of the attacker, I might be persuaded to speculate that more than one person wielded this particular knife. Young Anthony has offered a theory that, though premature, has some merit." The ME motioned towards the young man at his side and said, "Your young man reminded me about the Agatha Christie mystery, 'Murder on the Orient Express,' although Anthony seems to prefer the film version, in which Hercule Poirot solves the mystery of a murdered passenger."

Tony, smiling broadly, interjected, "Stabbed twelve times."

Ducky mused, "I do believe I saw the Hungarian-language version, 'A Behavazott Express,' roughly translated as 'The Express Stuck in Snow,' when I was stationed in--"

Both Franks and Gibbs said loudly, "Ducky!"

Startled, the ME said, "Oh, yes, well as I was saying…"

Gibbs nodded. "Stabbed twelve times by twelve different people." At the surprised look from Tony, Gibbs said, "Hey, I've read the book."

***

Before heading back to DC, Gibbs and Tony made a brief stop at Tyler's Corner, where they found a talkative saleswoman ("Just call me Sassy, honey. Everybody does.") at the local newsagent's. They asked her a few questions or, to be more accurate, Tony perched one hip on the countertop and smiled at the middle-aged woman while he sucked suggestively on a lollipop. She ogled him openly while she spilled everything she knew about the Parrish family, going way back.

Apart from the Parrish daughter being a bit wild, but what kids weren't trouble at that age, and the wife never being home, although why she worked so hard was a mystery when everyone knew the family had piles of money, they seemed like such nice people. Lance Cpl. Parrish was a real hometown hero and everyone was so proud of him being a Marine and all. And there was that boy, Bobby, Mrs. Parrish's son, who was always hanging out with his younger sister, though she was really his stepsister. He was a strange one, holding her hand to cross the street as if she was a child, even if it was good that he was looking out for her. I mean how many boys do you know who would be so nice to his own sister? But just the same, the Parrishes were just normal people.

***

Once they were in Gibbs' pickup Tony scoffed, "Yeah, right. The Parrishes are normal people all right. Normal people like in Dr. Who." He put on a British accent and quoted, "'You know, normal people. Not power-crazed nutters trying to take over the universe.'" Gibbs took his eyes off the road for so long, trying to figure out who the hell Dr. Who was, that Tony became scared they'd veer off the road at any moment and said so, which didn't win him any Brownie points. "I can see we'll need to watch some TV and movies together, Boss, just to bring you up to speed."

Gibbs didn't bother to reveal that his old black-and-white TV was on the fritz and he wasn't planning on replacing it. "Ya really think we're gonna spend time watching TV, DiFonzzo?"

Tony appeared to be inordinately pleased. "Oh, that's good, Boss. Finally you've stopped stuttering when you say DiFonzzo."

Gibbs slapped Tony on the back of the head, smiling at the resulting "Ow!" Tony smoothed his hair down and asked in a sultry tone, "Is that your version of foreplay, Jethro? Because if it is, I really like it. Can I have some more?"

***

Gibbs didn't offer any apology for the way the day had turned out because it was obvious that Tony had enjoyed himself visiting his first crime scene. Not that he would have outright said he was sorry. Tony was pretty quiet on the return trip, only making the occasional remark, sensing that Gibbs needed time to think about the investigation.

They were on the outskirts of the city when Gibbs pulled over at a diner. "Need coffee."

Tony looked hopefully at Gibbs. "I could eat."

Gibbs had come to realize that Tony needed refueling more frequently than the truck needed gas. "All right. We need to be out in thirty minutes, tops." He had to get into the office and start phoning people and checking in the evidence they'd collected. Burley would already be working on the case but he needed guidance, and Franks and Shepard, who'd gone to talk to Parrish's CO, wouldn't get back for another hour at the earliest. Ducky was transporting the body and the LEOs had been assigned to bring in the three suspects.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure." Gibbs sighed, expecting another question about forensics or interrogation procedures.

Tony reached over and laid his hand on Gibbs' thigh. "Were you jealous back there? Of Jenny, I mean? Because…you know I don't care about her, Jethro."

Gibbs didn't respond because it was obvious he had been jealous. Considering he'd known Tony for less than 24 hours, not counting their previous brief encounter last summer, his strong feelings seemed all out of proportion. He didn't do anything about the hand resting on his leg though. It was making him hot and bothered even if Tony's hand was simply sitting there. Tony wasn't even stroking or squeezing him, although Gibbs wouldn’t have minded that.

"How about," Tony proposed in a low voice, "we get our food to go, and then we can pull over somewhere quiet and spend the other twenty minutes doing something better than sitting in a crowded diner? Like you fucking me up my ass so hard I can't speak, right here across the seat of your truck? I always wanted to do it in a truck."

***

Ten minutes later their take-out food was getting cold on the dashboard as Gibbs positioned himself behind Tony and, as promised, fucked him hard across the front seat of his truck. Considering the encouraging noises Tony was shouting, Gibbs wondered if any amount of hard fucking would render Tony speechless.

***end chapter 10***


	11. Trucking

As luck would have it, there was an abandoned drive-in theater across the street from the diner. Gibbs gunned the engine across the overgrown parking lot and shot past the massive screen that would never again show a movie. The truck came to a gravel-spewing halt at the far end of the lot, under the cover of the sweeping branches of an overgrown evergreen.

Tony stripped down to his bare skin in record time, and scrambled onto his hands and knees on the seat of the truck. He spread his legs as wide as the seat allowed, lowered his head and presented his firm pale ass to Gibbs.

Briskly unclipping his holster from his belt and storing it under the seat, Gibbs glanced at the bag of takeout on the dashboard, feverishly wondering if the side of mayo that came with his fish sandwich was an acceptable form of lubricant. Before he could reach for the paper bag, Tony uncurled himself long enough to open the glove compartment and pull out some lube and a package of condoms. He tossed them at Gibbs before assuming the position again.

"Sii preperato," Tony said in Italian.

Gibbs caught sight of a silly grin on Tony's face before he lowered his head once more. "Boy Scout," Gibbs said with a huff of a laugh.

"Cowboy," Tony countered, his voice slightly muffled against his forearm.

"Jailbait," Gibbs retorted. Shoving his pants and boxers down to his knees, he hurriedly freed his rock-hard cock and positioned himself behind Tony, one knee on the seat, the other leg braced on the flooring. As anxious as a teenager about to hit the bull's-eye for the first time, Gibbs rolled a condom onto his ready-and-waiting cock, slathered on a dollop of lube and then pushed partway into Tony's tight entrance, none too gently. He got a good grip on Tony's hips and waited a few seconds before using his weight to drive the rest of the way into his hot passage with a loud grunt. Gibbs wanted nothing more than to pump hard but he made himself hold back, sweating, until Tony had a chance to adjust.

Tony, apparently not needing any time, raised his head and pled, "C'mon…hard, fuck me hard."

Gibbs waited a few breaths before he pulled out partway and then slid back in with a long controlled glide. It was difficult not to thrust without holding back, just as Tony was begging for, but Gibbs didn't want to push too fast even if his instinct was to pound into the kid's ass. Instead he skimmed one hand up the young man's back and neck to run his fingers through his soft hair, then across his shoulders and around his ribs to caress and fondle his chest, making Tony whine with need. "Shhh, easy, we'll get there," Gibbs said soothingly.

He rubbed the nubs of Tony's nipples, sadly bare without their little gold adornments, until Tony moaned, then ran his hand over his taut stomach muscles and down to his dick. Oh yes, Tony was ready, rigid and leaking, his whole body quivering, whimpering with need. Anxious for more, Tony rose up on his hands and rocked back on Gibb's cock, making little grunting sounds.

Gibbs retained a firm hold on Tony's hip with one hand, and with his free hand stroked and twisted Tony's cock, loving the feeling of silk over steel, the wetness that oozed from the tip. He smiled at the way Tony ground back into him, so demanding, and how he gasped when Gibbs ran his thumb over the sensitive slit at the tip of his dick. Gibbs rubbed the underside of Tony's shaft with his thumbnail and when the young man shuddered under him, thighs trembling, Gibbs began to thrust, closing his eyes as his desire rose and Tony moved to receive him.

Tony's fingers dug into the truck's upholstery. "Pleeease," he said, drawing out the word, ending it on a high note.

He loved the sounds Tony made, a combination of mewling whines and moans, wordless requests and demands, indications of pleasure and pain that came hand in hand. He was always asking for something - asking for release, asking for Gibbs to give him what he wanted. Tony asked because he knew he _needed_ the man's permission to come, to feel, to be loved. Those distressed, needy cries turned Gibbs on almost as much as the feel of his lover's dick in his hand, hot and pulsing with every beat of Tony's heart.

Gibbs had limited sexual experience with men and had never done this before - this fucking, penetrating - not to any man. Maybe because it was a secret between the two of them, but it turned him on like he'd never been turned on before, with tense stomach and aching balls and a base, agonizing need for release that defied description. It was new and special and he'd never been so willing to take risks in order to satisfy a craving, and it scared him.

It was about more than the physical aspect of their joining, even though the sex was certainly driving him. It was also about the feelings that Gibbs could clearly see that Tony had for him. If he took a moment to be truthful with himself, Gibbs could admit that he reciprocated the affection, the passion, the need for connection. From the first moment Gibbs had laid eyes on Tony, all tanned and slicked up with coffee-scented suntan lotion, he'd wanted him, ached for him madly and dangerously, with his body and his heart, and no matter what happened between them he would never regret a second of the time they'd spent together.

Even though he was all-too aware of how dangerous this middle-of-the-day sex was, how exposed they were, Gibbs took his time. One more twist and squeeze of Tony's cock and then he had to use both hands to keep Tony steady, he was bucking so much. He adjusted his hold on Tony's hips, fingers grasping muscle and bone, leaning across his back to hold him still, forcing him to wait, to understand that this would only progress when _Gibbs_ decided it would.

He could feel Tony's muscles tremble under his hands, against his thighs and pelvis, and he heard a quaking whisper of an entreaty. "Gibbs? Jethro? Please…"

"Are you going to be good?" Tony moaned in protest and squirmed a little, trying to hump his ass up and down Gibbs' shaft to gain relief from his burning need, but Gibbs' fingers bit cruelly into him, determined to keep Tony in place. Gibbs asked again, threateningly, "Gonna be good?" Then, softer, with a kiss between Tony's shoulder blades, "Are you gonna be my good boy, my sweet boy?"

"I…I want…" Tony rocked, letting out a high, frustrated sound, but Gibbs had such a tight grip on him he wasn't able to get any friction. Almost crying, Tony wailed, "Pleeease…I need…I need…"

"You need what I say you need. Stop fighting me." Gibbs wrapped his arms around Tony's chest, leaned  forward and mouthed at a tender spot on the back of his partner's neck, sucked on the warm skin and bit down.

In  reaction Tony yelped, his shoulder muscles tensing as he squirmed. He fought against Gibbs' iron hold on him but slowly, so slowly he relaxed until finally he lowered his head. Panting, Tony groaned, "I'm good, I'm good. I'm your good boy."

Gibbs' pulse sped up and his body flushed with desire. He licked and then kissed the livid red mark on the nape of Tony's neck and felt him shiver. "That's my boy…." Only then did Gibbs adjust his weight and begin to move his hips,  increasing his speed and changing the angle until the heavily  breathing youth under him was crying out with every powerful thrust of Gibb's hips. Loud, fractured moans were wrenched from Tony as Gibbs plunged into him and buried his cock up to the hilt. Gibbs set a rhythm, heaving and thrusting, giving, sliding, withdrawing, thoughts of nothing but heat and pleasure and _God_ how he loved this, loved the _feeling_ , loved the _boy_. He quickened his pace, sweating, his balls slapping against Tony's ass every time he fucked him deeply.

He changed his grip and kept one hand on Tony's waist, steadying him, owning and guiding him, while his other hand took hold of Tony's dick and fisted it in time to his thrusts. The heat was building, the shattering feeling of Tony's muscles clenching around his cock, that rising wave of ecstasy, the sweet pressure, and then Tony arched his back and gave a helpless cry, streams of hot come pulsing over his lover's hand. Gibbs tensed and shuddered in response, shouting in exultation as he jerked and came deep inside Tony's body.

They collapsed awkwardly, Gibbs trying to avoid crushing his lover, who was panting underneath him. As soon as his brain began to work again Gibbs slipped out, keeping the connection with one hand on Tony's back. He sat up and looked out the windshield of his pickup while he waited for his breathing to return to something that resembled normality. Cars were zipping along the main road, their sound muffled and remote while he and Tony were in their own little cocoon, warm and messy and sated.

Tony lay sprawled on his stomach, collapsed onto himself with his head to one side, his eyelashes fluttering. Gibbs smiled, ridiculously satisfied with himself and happy to the point of wanting to shout about it to the whole fucking world. Instead, he stroked Tony's sweaty back and murmured soothing nothings to his lover. After a few minutes, Gibbs tidied himself up and dressed, then pressed Tony's discarded underwear into his lax fingers. "Here, clean yourself off."

"Guh," Tony mumbled.

Gibbs smacked Tony on his ass but the young man barely moved. "I'm going to stretch my legs for a minute." Gibbs stepped out of the vehicle, leaving the door open. He tucked his shirt in and retrieved his holster and clipped it onto his belt. The air was cool compared to the cab of the truck, and it served to wake him from the lingering sexual daze he was in. Gibbs walked around the back of the truck and confirmed that his lumber was still tied down securely. He smiled to himself, thinking that he wouldn’t have been surprised if their shenanigans had loosened the load.

Tony stepped out of the truck, naked, and absently rubbed himself down with his boxers.

"Hey! Get some clothes on, DiNozzo," Gibbs ordered. It was unlikely that anyone would spot them, what with the bulk of the truck between them and the road, the open door acting as a shield, and thick boughs of evergreens at their back, but Gibbs felt they were exposed anyway.

Tony didn't seem surprised at Gibbs' sharp tone. "I'm getting there," he said in a placating manner. Grabbing his jeans, Tony stepped into them, and with a little jump he pulled them up to his waist in one smooth move. Next Tony drew his shirt and sweatshirt over his head, tossed the underwear that he'd used for cleanup into the truck, and he was done. "I wiped off the seat best I could," he said, somewhat sheepishly, running his fingers through his messy hair but not doing much to tame it. "We should've brought a towel."

Gibbs offered a quirk of a smile. "I'll put it on the list for next time."

Tony's smile grew. "There'll be a next time?"

"I'd prefer a bed," Gibbs said grouchily.

Not at all deceived, Tony sidled up to Gibbs and slipped his arms around his waist, smiling fondly. "It'd be good anywhere with you, Jethro."

Gibbs knew it sounded stupid but he couldn’t help asking, "It was good?" He'd found the sex potent and satisfying, but he needed to hear it had been good for Tony, too. He wondered if he'd taken it too far, been too demanding, but from the look of sheer happiness on Tony's face, he knew he shouldn't have worried.

"Oh yeaaah." Tony hugged the older man tight and rested his head on his shoulder. "Wonderful."

"'Cause it was in a truck?" Gibbs slid his hands under Tony's shirt, and caressed the warm silky skin of his back.

"'Cause it was with you." Tony leaned back so he could meet Gibbs' eyes, searching them for confirmation. "Was it okay? I mean was I…"

"Oh God, yeah," Gibbs said on a sigh.

"I was your good boy," Tony stated seriously, really meaning it as a question.

"Yes, you were." Gibbs closed his eyes and kissed the young man in his arms, being assertive but not overly demanding. Tony sank into the kiss, his mouth opening in welcome, his body yielding into Gibbs' caress, but the older man soon pulled his mouth away. "Okay. We have to go," he said, his voice husky. He peeled Tony's arms from around him but couldn't bear to step away. What the hell was he thinking? They were in the middle of a murder investigation. He still had a job to do and the rest of the team would be wondering if he'd sunk into a hole somewhere. "Enough. Get in the truck." Tony smiled at him, his eyelids at half-mast but he didn't move so Gibbs reiterated, "We have to go. The sooner we get back to the Yard, the sooner my work will be done, and the sooner we can get home."

"Get home and to bed?"

"Work before play," Gibbs replied. He looked at Tony with his hair messy, in his rumpled sweatshirt with his jeans riding low, worn with no underwear. The ridge of his dick was clearly visible and there was a fresh hickey, Gibbs' mark, on the back of Tony's neck. "Pull the collar of your sweatshirt up a bit to cover my mark," he ordered.

Tony did as he was told with a smirk.

***

Gibbs drove at his usual breakneck speed, and they arrived at the Navy Yard long before Franks and Shepard did.

If Tony stumbled out of the vehicle with a relieved look on his face, he had every right. He indicated the lumber in the bed of the pickup. "You trying to lose the payload, Jethro?"

"It's tied down well enough to weather a storm at sea," Gibbs replied with a shrug.

"Can I borrow that little notebook of yours?" Tony asked sweetly.

Narrowing his eyes in suspicion, Gibbs complied.

Tony found a blank page and spoke aloud as he jotted down, "Rope. Coffee. Lube. Towel. Dramamine, puke bucket…"

Gibbs slapped the back of Tony's head, snatched his notebook back and pushed Tony towards the entrance of the building, all in quick succession. "Smartass." He secured a visitor's pass for his young guest and ushered him into the elevator. Once upstairs they headed for a men's room at the back of the main floor that was seldom frequented so they could freshen up. "We reek of sex," Gibbs muttered. He checked to make sure they had the bathroom to themselves and then locked the door for privacy.

Tony made a show of rubbing up against Gibbs' chest and sniffing him. "Mmmm. Smells good to me," Tony said with a sexy growl added for good measure. He backed a willing Gibbs against the sink, and had his zipper down, and his mouth sucking on Gibbs' dick in three seconds flat.

Moans and little hums of appreciation vibrating up his shaft made Gibbs's dick hard and his knees weak. After a couple of minutes, Gibbs reluctantly slid his hands into Tony's hair and pulled hard, forcing the mouth away. Tony, still on his knees, looked up with puzzled, dark eyes. "Later," Gibbs said in a strained voice. Much later. "C'mon. Get up."

Tony's moist lips were an enticing shade of pink and his hair was standing on end, adding to his debauched appearance. He was disappointed at being interrupted but he licked his lips and tucked Gibbs's still-hard cock back into his pants for him.

Gibbs adjusted himself and had a brief talk with the younger man about the consequences of misbehaving: "I am licensed to carry a weapon, Tony, and can use deadly force at my discretion. Go clean up. We need to get up to the squad room."

Nodding towards the bulge still apparent in Gibbs' pants, Tony grinned. "I know all about your weapon, Special Agent Gibbs."

Gibbs glared and said, "Be good. You'll learn more about it _later_."

Tony met his eyes and said soberly, "All right. Later."

Gibbs tried not to look when Tony dropped his pants and lifted his shirt to give himself a quick wash at one of the sinks. Tony tidied his clothes and carefully smoothed down his hair.

"With me, DiFonzzo," Gibbs said, unlocking the door and leaving without looking back.

When Tony sauntered into the squad room a short while later, at Gibbs' side, and was introduced to Special Agent Stan Burley, the young man smiled broadly and looked around with wide, interested eyes. To Gibbs, Tony looked every inch the college jock enthralled with being amongst federal agents who carried firearms and caught bad guys for a living. Gone was the wild-haired, cock-sucking, moaning slut of only a few minutes ago. Gibbs wasn't sure if he should be relieved that Tony could change from wanton to wholesome with such ease, or if he should be concerned.

***

Gibbs placed Tony, who pulled the collar of his sweatshirt up to cover his love-bite, at a nearby desk where he could keep an eye on him. Stan Burley's eyes rested a little too long on the purple marks on Tony's neck and temple, so Tony told the truth about his bruises. "Got mugged," he said sheepishly. "Maybe Agent Gibbs will teach me some defensive moves," he added hopefully.

Stan took a few minutes to ask Tony about his college courses, and then showed him a computer game that FLETC designed to gauge agents' reaction times and other skills. "The game is accessible online now, and we have a lot of college kids playing," Burley explained.

In no time at all Tony was into the game and was trying hard to beat the best score on record, currently held by someone named MITelfLORD. When Tony asked Gibbs what his score was, all he got was a sour look, but it made him smile all the same.

***

"Parrish's CO didn't give us anything new," Special Agent Franks told the team when he and Shepard arrived back at the Yard. "Nobody with a grudge. Nice guy and family man, looking forward to relocating his wife and daughter to Germany. The wife was happy to relocate, and has a job lined up near the base. Her son's father is deceased and there are no contentious family members. The CO says that Lance Cpl. Parrish made changes to his departure plans with the company relocation specialist only two days ago, specifying that Bobby was not going to join them."

Gibbs asked, "Parrish and the stepson have a fight recently?"

Jenny said, "The CO never witnessed anything. The teenager never went near the base, stuck close to home. The mother was tight-lipped on the subject but said he was a good son and protected his sister, made sure she didn't get into trouble or stay out late. That kind of stuff. Melissa described her relationship with Bobby as being fine and wouldn't add anything to it."

"Bobby was close to his stepsister," Gibbs commented. "Looks like he didn't want to be parted from her."

"Badly enough to kill?" Jenny asked.

"Yeah, well, they all denied having anything to do with Parrish's death," said Franks, clearly frustrated. "They all said they have any idea who might have killed him." He ordered, "Shepard, go down to forensics to see what they have for us, and then we'll interview Mrs. Parrish and the kids."

***

Franks and the team gathered additional background information on the Parrishes, and Mrs. Parrish's son, Bobby Edelstein, prior to interrogating the three murder suspects. Stan reported that he'd found nothing out of the ordinary about the family's finances. Just as Jenny returned from forensics with nothing concrete to add to the investigation, other than confirmation that there were three sets of fingerprints on the murder weapon, Gibbs took a call that summoned him down to Autopsy. "Dr. Mallard has a preliminary report ready," he informed Franks, who waved him on his way.

Everybody knew that Mike Franks did everything he could to avoid going down to the morgue. For a man who had spent four years fighting in the jungles of Vietnam, it was strange that he was so squeamish around corpses. "It's the smell of the place, Probie," Franks had quietly admitted to Gibbs. "Dead bodies are bad enough, but seeing them laid out like that, the innards scooped out and dumped in a bucket…" Franks shuddered. The senior medical examiner, Dr. Magnus, was retiring soon and spent half of his time teaching forensics at FLETC. That left Dr. Mallard as primary ME, and Gibbs got along well with him. It wasn't as if Gibbs liked seeing anyone being autopsied any more than Franks did, but he was able to distance himself when on the job.

Gibbs looked over at Tony, who was apparently finding the computer game riveting, unsure if he should leave him in the bullpen while he was downstairs talking to Ducky. He was concerned that the younger man might stray or forget where he was if he didn't have the steadying influence of Gibbs close by.

Stan looked up from going through the Parrish's background material to assure Gibbs, "He'll be safe with me, Agent Gibbs." Apparently Stan, as well as the other agents, had accepted Tony for who he'd said he was - the son of one of Gibbs' old Marine buddies. Just a college freshman on a weekend break.

Franks and Jenny were both on the phone, involved in the investigation. Gibbs decided to take a chance and leave Tony in Stan's hands. It certainly wasn't the first risky move he'd taken that day. Before he left the bullpen, Gibbs leaned over Tony and said, quietly so only he could hear, "If you so much as move a muscle off that chair when I'm gone, I will make sure that you won't be able to sit on your ass for an entire week. Is that clear?"

"Crystal, except…" Without moving his head, Tony glanced sideways at Gibbs. "What if I need to take a leak?"

In reply, Gibbs grabbed the wastebasket sitting at the side of the desk and plunked it down next to Tony's chair.

"Uh, Gibbs?" Tony asked, his face the picture of innocence.

Gibbs narrowed his eyes. "What, DiFonzzo?"

"My ass already hurts because," he said, his voice dropping down to a whisper, "this big Marine I know already pounded on it a couple of times today." Gibbs glared at Tony and delivered a smack to the back of his head. Tony smiled and stroked his messed-up hair back into place. "Tough love, Gunny?"

Stan had been watching them ever since Gibbs had slapped Tony, obviously wondering what Tony had done to warrant such a punishment and feeling a little sorry for him. Ignoring Stan's dark looks, Gibbs waited to make sure that Tony was aware of the inherent danger of the situation, and to ascertain that he was going to behave himself. "Be a good boy, Tony."

"Yes, Boss."

Satisfied, Gibbs went down to Autopsy to discover what Ducky had to impart.

***

"What've you got, Duck?" Gibbs walked over to the autopsy table to get a close look at Parrish's wounds.

The ME regaled Agent Gibbs with a rambling story from his past involving a knife, a mysterious woman, and a trail of blood that led nowhere. Eventually Gibbs appeared so impatient that Dr. Mallard informed the agent that he had concluded that one knife had been used to stab Lance Cpl. Parrish multiple times. "His own knife was used against him, I fear. This wound here," Ducky said, pointing to one of the cuts in Parrish's back, "is quite shallow, these two deeper, but any of them alone could have been the fatal blow because an artery was nicked, causing extensive exsanguination. The poor man bled to death in his own driveway. Such a waste."

"All deaths of armed forces personnel are a waste, Dr. Mallard," Gibbs said matter-of-factly. "Was he stabbed by one person?"

"It is impossible to determine without a doubt but I believe that the deceased was stabbed by more than one person, one at an upward angle and two strikes downward."

"The upward jab from a soldier?"

"Or someone taught by a soldier."

Gibbs ran a hand over his face. The forensics hadn't offered any new or concrete evidence to pinpoint who had murdered the lance corporal. It could be the daughter or the stepson; Parrish would have taught his kids how to defend themselves, he'd bet. He found Ducky's pale blue eyes were on him, a hint of speculation in their depths. "Something else?" Gibbs asked.

"Your young friend, Anthony…DiFonzzo was it?"

Gibbs grunted, figuring it was safer than outright lying to the ME who was also his friend.

Ducky said, "Yes, well, Anthony was most helpful and made some quite intelligent points during the investigation, in my estimation. That is, whenever he stopped hiding behind that silly grin of his." Ducky's gaze was steady as he waited for Gibbs to respond.

"He's leaving tomorrow," Gibbs felt it was safe to say.

Ducky nodded, never taking his eyes off Gibbs. "Anthony has an eclectic taste in film. It's rare for a jock, as I believe he describes himself, to have an appreciation for the filmed interpretation of E. M. Forster's 'Maurice,' much less the French version of La Cage aux Folles. And to be able to quote Albin Mougeotte in Aostan French, _f_ _rançais valdôtain_ , commonly spoken in the Aosta Valley in Italy, suggests he is quite well rounded for a young man of his background."

Gibbs pulled a face that expressed his impatience and said testily, "Ducky, if you're gonna talk like Tony, I'm outta here. I didn't understand a word you just said, except for 'jock.'"

Ducky laughed but then sobered to say, "You're treading a very dangerous path, my friend, and that boy is right on your heels. Do be careful. Now, I must return to the lance corporal as we have some unfinished business to attend to."

Gibbs didn't know if Ducky was fishing or if he really saw through Gibbs' and Tony's façade. The ME wouldn't say anything that would jeopardize their cover, Gibbs was sure. He nodded, turned on his heel, and was almost out of the room when Ducky called after him. "One more thing, Jethro. I do hope that those marks on Anthony's face were, indeed, the result of being attacked by some young thugs."

Gibbs halted in the doorway and said, his voice was soft yet dangerous, "What, you think I did that to him, Duck?"

"Good Lord, no. I know you wouldn't hurt a hair on that lad's head, Jethro. But from a casual observation of the bruises on his neck, I'd say that someone with a rather large hand had the boy by the throat about 24 hours ago. Just be careful."

Gibbs nodded and left. He wondered, for the first time, if someone other than one of the youths who had mugged Tony had a hand around his throat. Whoever had had choked Tony, had held him hard enough to leave imprints of his fingers on either side of his neck. No matter whether Tony had been hurt by the young muggers, or by someone else entirely, Gibbs was incensed afresh by the thought. He'd make a point of asking Tony about it later on, when they were alone.

On his way back up to the squad room, Gibbs puzzled over how the hell Ducky had figured out that there was something going on between him and Tony. He'd been careful and Tony's feelings had been well concealed ever since they'd walked into the squad room that afternoon.

Gibbs badly needed some very strong coffee, and he couldn’t wait for that night. His craving for Tony was growing by the minute.

***end chapter 11***


	12. Twisted

Gibbs glanced at his watch as he swept out of the elevator and into the squad room. It was after five and he had just finished interrogating Mrs. Parrish and her daughter. Agent Shepard had been given the task of questioning the sixteen-year-old Bobby Edelstein with her boss supervising. After they had completed the interviews and had taken statements, the accused had been transferred to holding cells. The three special agents had compared notes in a conference room, come to a decision, and then headed up to the bullpen to deal with the inevitable paperwork.

After making sure that Tony was still safely ensconced behind his temporarily assigned desk, Gibbs slid into his seat and started up his computer. Although he wasn't pleased with the way the interrogation had gone, at least they'd come to a conclusion. It was now up to Mrs. Parrish and her lawyer to figure out her next step. It was likely that the teenagers, her now fatherless children, were going to end up in the custody of the state, or possibly with relatives on different sides of the country. And caught in the middle had been Lance Cpl. Parrish, murdered by his daughter and stepson in an act worthy of a Shakespearean tragedy.

Gibbs first checked that Stan was occupied with his paperwork, and then took a moment to rest his eyes on Tony. The young man had been watching him since he'd emerged from the elevator, Gibbs knew. Tony appeared worried as he mouthed the words, "You okay?" so Gibbs sent him a small smile and a nod of his head, letting him know everything was all right. Suddenly Gibbs wanted nothing more than to be at home, with his arm around Tony, heading upstairs to his bedroom for an evening of loving. Tony must have seen something soften in Gibbs' expression because he gave an encouraging smile and nodded in response. It appeared that he, too, was looking forward to a night at home, and it warmed Gibbs' heart. My God, was it only the night before that he'd had that call from Tony, begging him to come to the North Brewer police station to pick him up?

Jenny walked into the bullpen alongside Franks, annoyed that she couldn't get a confession out of the teenaged boy, Bobby, even after using some interrogation techniques she'd recently learned. The redhead complained to her boss, "That boy wasn't going to confess while a social services rep was holding his hand! We should have done something to get rid of Bobby's watchdog, even if only for a few minutes. Then I could have extracted the truth from him."

Franks snapped, "What did ya want me to do? Take the kid into a broom closet and make good use of a telephone directory?"

"Ah, the good old days," Gibbs sighed.

Stan said, "When I was a senator's aide, my boss often said that 'crossing the road is a personal journey and no chicken should be denied the right to cross the road in his or her own way.'" After Franks and Gibbs stared at him, and Jenny sent him a sour look, Stan flushed and added, "You can't force people to act the way you know they should act."

Jenny insisted, "I still think I should have been given free rein to interrogate the suspect as the crime warranted. I'd have forced him to act the way I wanted him to act, you can be damned sure."

Gibbs grinned at Jenny's fervor. "I'd have paid good money to watch, too."

Tony sat quietly at his desk at the back of the bullpen, his eyes darting from one team member to another, enjoying the show.

Franks was experienced enough to know you couldn’t win every battle. "Look, nowadays we have to respect everyone's rights, Shepard. I damned well don't like it but there ain't a thing I can do about it. We need to move on. There are other cases out there that need our attention."

"When the job's done, walk away," Gibbs pointed out. "Rule number eleven."

Jenny asked of nobody in particular, "Isn't it about time someone posted these rules? And can I add my own rules to the list, like: no crying allowed in interrogation?"

Stan asked, concerned, "Did someone upset you, Jenny?"

"Not her, Steve," Gibbs said. "She means she made the kid she interviewed cry."

"It's Stan, Gibbs. Stan," the blond agent corrected.

Gibbs turned away from Stan to hide his smile. He felt eyes on him and glanced up; Tony was watching their interaction with a smirk on his face. 

Franks looked up at the ceiling and sighed deeply. "Geez, I need a smoke." He patted his breast pocket looking for his cigarettes and pulled out a squashed-looking pack with one cigarette remaining. "Thank the Lord. Anyone got a match?"

Tony rose to his feet and held a very large soft-cover book towards Franks, saying nothing.

The supervisory agent looked at the book as if it was something deadly and spat, "What the hell is that, DiFonzzo?"

Gibbs glared at Tony, but it wasn't enough to stop the young man from speaking to Franks.

"Well, Special Agent Franks," Tony said carefully, "this is the official NCIS regulations handbook as relates to investigations of criminal, terrorist, and foreign intelligence threats to the United States Navy and Marine Corps."

Franks scowled and stepped into Tony's personal space. "And what, exactly, do you think I'm gonna do with that oversized manual that I doubt anybody in this office has ever read?

Tony glanced over Franks' shoulder where Gibbs, Stan and Jenny were frozen in place, then back to Franks. "You _could_ read it, except I'll bet your eyes would glaze over long before you get to page ten, just like mine did. I was thinking maybe you could use it to beat a confession out of Bobby Edelstein?" If anything, Franks' glare deepened so Tony dropped his gaze to the floor and asked, "Or maybe it'd make a good doorstopper?"

After a pause, Franks said, "No need to beat anything out of Edelstein. Mrs. Parrish already confessed to Gibbs. Case is over." Tony's eyes flicked up long enough to find Franks was watching his reaction carefully. "What's the matter?" Franks asked. "You don't like that solution, DiFonzzo?"

"Uh, not really." Tony met Frank's gaze squarely. "I don't understand. At the scene Dr. Mallard said that more than one person knifed the lance corporal, and there's evidence that sweet little Melissa Parrish has a really bad crush on her stepbrother. Her father was going to take her and her mother out of the country and leave Bobby behind, indicating he wanted to separate the teenagers. And…and you saw the pictures she kept--"

Franks sighed. "None of this is evidence that either Bobby or Melissa stabbed Lance Cpl. Parrish in the back, and Dr. Mallard cannot say without any doubt that those wounds were made by more than one person. Only that they were of different depths."

"But…"

Gibbs stepped in and said, "Leave it alone, Tony. The mother confessed." He traded a look with Franks, who nodded. Gibbs put an arm around Tony's shoulders and guided him to the large windows overlooking the river, out of range of the others' hearing. Tony leaned into his touch, and Gibbs figured from all outward appearances the scene must look like a mentor was offering comfort to an upset youth. He gave Tony a gentle squeeze with his hand and then he let his arm drop away, knowing the fleeting contact was all he'd be able to get away with in public.

"But Gibbs," Tony protested.

Gibbs said evenly, "It's in the hands of the lawyers now."

"But you know it was those kids--."

"The mother will stand trial so her kids can go free. Do you understand?" He watched emotions play over Tony's features, and waited patiently until an unhappy, stubborn look finally settled on the young man's face.

"Lot of good it'll do them if their mother's in prison," Tony said stubbornly.

Gibbs sighed. "Much as I hate lawyers, she has a good one, but you need to remember that a Marine was murdered today, Tony, and somebody has to pay." After a moment, Tony reluctantly nodded. In a low voice Gibbs said, "Let's not talk about this any more. I have some paperwork to do, and we can get out of here. Might be able to get outta here in an hour. Okay?"

Tony nodded again and as soon as they returned to the bullpen, he settled at his desk in the corner and opened a huge coffee-table book on the history of the US Marine Corps, ignoring the inquisitive looks that Jenny sent his way.

She sashayed past Tony on her way to the fax machine and stopped at his desk on her return trip. "You're not really reading that book are you, Tony?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

Tony looked around the bullpen to make sure that nobody was watching and then slowly lowered the open book to reveal a glossy magazine hidden within its binding. "Good pictures," he said with a self-depreciating laugh and a shrug of his shoulders. "Articles aren't half bad, either."

Jenny perched on the corner of the desk and leaned over, making sure she displayed some cleavage. "'The Score Magazine'? Where'd you get that piece of trash?" she asked with amusement colored with disdain.

Tony nodded in the direction of a youngish man working across the next partition. "Chris gave it to me."

"Agent Pacci?" She peered across the divider at the agent as if seeing him for the first time.

"Yeah. There's a good article here, 'Battlefield Babes.' See?" Tony grinned widely and held the magazine up so Jenny was able to get a good view of the buxom women dressed in skimpy fatigues, carrying a variety of gear including backpacks and weapons. "You know, you'd think these babes would have trouble holding their assault rifles to their shoulders considering their humongous--"

Without looking up from his typing, Gibbs shouted, "DiFonzzo! Let Agent Shepard get back to work. Some of us want to be out of here before 2400."

"I was gonna say that the babes have humongous _backpacks_ , Boss." Tony gave an apologetic shrug to Jenny and picked up his magazine again, but as soon as she was settled at her desk and busy writing her report, he returned to reading the book about Marine combat operations in the Persian Gulf.

Every now and then Jenny would make an attempt to engage Tony in conversation. He didn't respond but instead sent covert glances Gibbs' way, aware they were being watched and Gibbs, in turn, glared at Jenny to warn her off. Eventually Jenny gave up with a sigh of regret.

***

As promised, they were soon done for the day. The agents said goodnight, Tony thanked Chris Pacci for the magazine, and Gibbs hustled his young visitor out of the building and over to his truck. Seeing the lengths of wood still tied down in the pickup's bed reminded Gibbs how they'd started the day. Finding Tony lying across his dining table that morning, wearing nothing but his red briefs, seemed a long time ago but the memory brought a smile to Gibbs' face.

"Interesting day," Tony said, as they buckled up and Gibbs started the truck. "Glad to get out of there?"

Pointing his vehicle in the direction of home, Gibbs nodded. "We work long hours, sometimes don't get a break for a week, but it's worth it. We have a really good closure rate. Put a lot of scumbags away. Top team at NCIS," he said with pride. "There's still more paperwork to do on this case but it can wait 'til tomorrow night." After you're gone, he thought. The realization that Tony would be heading back to college by this time tomorrow made Gibbs determined to enjoy the rest of their time they had together.

Tony looked out the window at the dark streets for a long while before saying reflectively, "They love each other, you know."

"Who?"

"Melissa Parrish and Bobby Edelstein." He turned his head to look at Gibbs. "It wasn't just the photos she hid that tells me that. When we were on the porch, before Jenny questioned Melissa so hard she made her cry, Melissa told me that Bobby watched out for her." He sighed dispiritedly. "Those teenagers really killed their father, didn't they? I'll bet the girl knifed him in anger and desperation, and Bobby finished him off. Because Parrish found out what they'd been doing and was going to separate them. It's so twisted."

"Most likely." A father murdered by his own children, and a mother sacrificing herself for the sake of her children? Yes, it was twisted all right. Parrish had gone down without a fight; the first blow must have done a lot of damage.

"Do you know that Melissa never referred to him as her brother? Not once. It was always _Bobby_ , or _him_ , but never _brother_. She made that distinction. It was quite clear." Tony said, almost absently, "The word incest comes from the word meaning sexually impure combined with the word chaste. You'd think they'd negate each other."

Gibbs didn't know what to say. Incest wasn't something he had given much thought to, not in the big scheme of things. He'd had enough of the Parrishes for one day, and he tried not to take his job home if he could help it.

Tony started talking as if Gibbs was participating in the conversation. "There's this movie called 'Close My Eyes,' with Alan Rickman and Clive Owen. You know Alan Rickman. He played the terrorist who was really a thief, Hans Gruber, in 'Die Hard'? He switched from German to American flawlessly. Now Clive Owen…you might not know him. He's in a British series called 'Chancer.' He's a businessman who does anything to help his friends out, but the twist is that he has a moral code that gets in his way. And, his unresolved family past won't leave him alone. He has black hair and _really_ nice blue eyes." He looked Gibbs' way to make sure he was still listening to him and seemed satisfied when he heard a grunt. "Not as nice as yours, Gibbs."

Gibbs just smiled, a bit embarrassed. If he was going to start complimenting people on their nice eyes, he'd be sure to begin with Tony's because every time those green eyes looked his way Gibbs felt like melting into them. But that was not the kind of thing Jethro Gibbs said aloud.

Tony continued, "So, in this movie 'Close My Eyes,' a brother and sister, adults, are obsessed with each other. They have a weirdly intense relationship and it's sexual, and her husband, that's Rickman, finds out. It's about this taboo subject but really they're two adults, consenting adults, who choose to love each other in a way nobody else understands. There's dialog in the movie where the husband says: 'I knew there was something extraordinary between you two, something which had to be purged. I don't want to know. There is a limit beyond which I can't go.'"

Gibbs didn't want to read too much into Tony's movie review or what prompted him to bring it up in the first place. All he could think of saying was, "Everybody has a limit, Tony. We just don't always know what it is until we hit it head on."

Tony kept watching the city streets slip by and didn't respond even though Gibbs knew he'd heard him. Eventually Tony looked at Gibbs, his polite college kid smile plastered on his face, and asked casually, "Are we having dinner at home? Just the two of us? I'd really like that."

~~~end chapter 12~~~


	13. The Missing

To say that it plagued Gibbs that he'd not been able to solve the case of Seaman Carl Jacobs, missing since the previous summer, was an understatement. His team's investigation had been thorough, and they had pursued every possible lead, but after five days in the New York City area, Gibbs, Burley and Pacci had been called back to DC. The status of the case was then dropped from active to 'on hold,' pending any new information. Not yet cold, but hardly a hot case either.

Now the winter was almost over and Franks' team had long since moved on to other cases: felonies including murder, terrorism, cyber crimes and counterintelligence.

***

Over the summer of 1991 the MCRT discovered that out of dozens of military personnel designated as being AWOL or deserters, eleven young men between the ages of eighteen and twenty-four, were unaccounted for over the past two years on the east coast. All of them fit the same profile: they were either Navy or Marine personnel, were physically fit and were considered to be aggressive rather than submissive young men. Only two of the missing men were alleged to be gay or bisexual. Several had been seen in the company of a still-unidentified older man shortly before disappearing. The alleged abductions took place along the east coast between New York City and Norfolk, VA. There were no bodies - eleven men had vanished without a trace. The NCIS team was sure the missing men had been murdered and then disposed of, but as yet had no proof.

In August another man was determined to be missing, the nephew of a higher-up in the Navy, and Director Morrow put the MCRT on the case. Seaman Carl Jacobs became victim number twelve. Franks decided to stay in Washington; he sent his senior field agent, Gibbs, to New York, along with Agents Burley and Pacci. During their time in New York, the three investigators divided up their leads and interviews in order to cover as much ground as possible, then regrouped later to pool their information. They worked well together: Stan was sharp and methodical, though he still wouldn’t make any decisions on his own without first asking a superior; Pacci was quiet and by-the-book, and if it sometimes took him a bit longer to come up with something insightful, his doggedness more than made up for it; Gibbs made a good leader, and kept them pointed in the right direction.

Gibbs and his team had returned to DC with dozens of interviews and theories under their belts, but despite their solid investigative skills and dedication they could not solve the case.

***

  
It had been the first time Franks had given Gibbs the lead on an investigation, and even if his boss had not been too hard on him when he'd come back empty-handed, in his own estimation Gibbs felt he had failed miserably. It gnawed at him that with no bodies and no solid clues they'd hit a wall and had been unable to close the case.  
  
Gibbs had heard tales of detectives who refused to retire because of an unsolved case that hearkened from their rookie days still hanging over them. To Gibbs, this was about more than solving the case and bringing a criminal to justice; it was about offering the parents of Carl Jacobs, and the families of the other missing servicemen, closure. To Gibbs it was his duty to give them proof that their sons had not deserted their country, and to allow the families to put the bodies of their children to rest.

  
***  
  
In October of that year the body of Marine Petty Officer Rudy Soto, age nineteen, had washed up on the banks of the Potomac River, all the way down at Point Lookout, and NCIS had begun an investigation. Luckily the ropes that had secured weights to the body had unraveled and the body had floated to the surface only hours after it was dumped. The senior NCIS medical examiner, Dr. Magnus, along with Dr. Mallard, had autopsied Petty Officer Soto and determined the young man had been sexually assaulted and had died of asphyxiation.  
  
Ducky had said, "We believe that Petty Officer Soto was bound and a plastic bag was placed over his head, leading to death by asphyxiation, as evidenced by petechial hemorrhaging. From the bruises and ligature marks on his body, I would say that the victim was also restrained with wide leather bindings around his neck, chest, arms and legs at the time of death. His right hand has several broken bones, and there is an impression of a boot on the skin. When found he wore no clothing, and was loosely wrapped in a tarpaulin. He wasn't in the water for more than a few hours, but any trace evidence has been washed away, I'm afraid."  
  
Dr. Magnus had pointed out, "He put up quite a fight, as you can see. His knuckles are abraded and bruised as well as other parts of his body: face, torso mostly. I'd say he was held captive for several days, at least. Possibly two men were involved in the disposal of the body."  
  
"Not easy to move and dispose of a dead body," Gibbs had said with a nod. Or thirteen of them that they knew of, he thought dismally. There was little to go on; apart from time and method of death of the sole body in their custody, the NCIS forensic scientist, Dustin Chen, had nothing significant to add. Even so, at that point the investigation team agreed that PO Soto's death might be linked to other missing men. If so, that made him the thirteenth victim and the first body to be retrieved.  
  
***  
  
Then two weeks ago Pacci had taken a call to say another floater had turned up on the banks of Potomac, at the Naval Ordnance Station at Indian Head. Franks, Pacci and Gibbs went to the scene and met the latest victim, number fourteen, of what had become known around the bullpen as the Lookout Serial Killer, despite Director Morrow's directive that no such label should be given to the investigation. So far the press hadn't caught onto the serial killer angle and SecNav wanted to keep it that way.  
  
***  
  
Pacci had pulled his collar up against the wind coming off the river. "Naked like the last one and no dog tags or ID but I recognize him from the AWOL bulletin. This man appears to be Private First Class Brownlee," Pacci reported to Special Agent Franks. "Reported missing four days ago. On leave from the USS Abraham Lincoln. Was out drinking with buddies and never made it back to the ship. Looks like the weights tied to his legs weren't secured well enough. One rope's still attached, but this one broke under the stress. They used small cinderblocks, just like the floater at Point Lookout last fall. Body got caught up on rocks here on the point and a couple of fishermen spotted him."  
  
Ducky had arrived and the agents greeted him. The ME drew back the heavy tarp that the body was wrapped in to reveal the naked body of a young Marine private. "Wide ligature marks around his wrists and neck, similar to those we saw on--."  
  
Franks had interrupted, saying tersely, "On Petty Officer Rudy Soto. We got another victim of the same killer, Dr. Mallard?"  
  
"We do not presume, assume or prognosticate, Agent Franks," Ducky had said, the lilt in his voice softening his rebuke a little. "However it appears this poor fellow may have been suffocated, as was the previous victim. Time of death is," he said as he removed a liver probe, "approximately twenty-four hours ago; I will be able to provide more details once I get him back home."  
  
Gibbs had stood there staring at the body until he'd felt eyes upon him and had looked up to see his boss was waiting for him to speak his mind. "The last one - Soto? Didn't he turn up four days after he was missing?"  
  
"What're you thinking, Probie?"  
  
"That someone likes to play with his sailors awhile before he kills them," Gibbs had said angrily, disliking the need to put his thoughts into words.  
  
Franks had nodded. "And whoever the bastard is, he's picking up a new playmate every couple of months."  
  
As soon as his team had returned to the Yard, Franks had set his agents, including Jenny Shepard, to find anything the missing men had in common, and to track Private First Class Brownlee's actions for the past week. "And I want to know everything he did, where he ate and drank, everyone he's spoken to, who he screwed, and that includes any crew he was jacking off with under the poop deck! Hell, I want to know how many times a day he took a piss if it'll help us catch this son of a bitch!"  
  
When they had all the intel they could gather on Private Brownlee, Franks and his team sat in a conference room for hours and went over the files of all the missing and dead Navy and Marine Corps personnel who were suspected victims of one killer. The only pattern was their ages and body types, and that most of the men went missing about two months apart from the New York and DC areas.  
  
"They were last seen at nightclubs or social events, and this one, Petty Officer Sullivan, went out jogging and never returned," Burley had said.  
  
Jenny had reviewed some of the open file folders. "Jacobs was at a party in Manhattan. Soto told his buddies he was seeing a girl for the weekend and he never returned but his car was found in Georgetown. Brownlee was last seen at a club in Fort Meyer around 11 PM."  
  
After they'd gone over everything and had thrown some theories around, the agents went off separately to do some more checking. That was when Gibbs placed a call to Anthony DiNozzo Sr. in his Manhattan office to see if he could find any new threads to follow.  
  
DiNozzo Sr. had reiterated, with mounting impatience, that he didn't know the identity of the man who Seaman Jacobs had last been seen drinking with. "I don't have any more to offer you now than I did the last time you questioned me, Agent Gibbs."  
  
Gibbs had gone over the guest list with DiNozzo Sr. again, questioning how he'd allowed minors into a private party with access to alcohol, and revealing some of the grisly details of Petty Officer Rudy Soto's and Private Greenlee's autopsies just to shake him up. The agent had pushed pretty hard but apart from royally pissing off DiNozzo, who had lost his cool and threatened to call his congressman about being harassed, which Gibbs had scoffed openly about, not much was gained. Of course, Gibbs had enjoyed annoying DiNozzo and hoped he'd get the chance to hurt him a hell of a lot more at some future date.

  
***  
  
When they'd begun to investigate Seaman Jacob's disappearance, Gibbs had dug deep into Anthony DiNozzo Sr.'s background and he had discovered some well-hidden cracks in the businessman's carefully constructed façade. There were indications of less-than-legal transactions as well as some iffy deals DiNozzo had struck with unscrupulous and dangerous men in the Maggadino and Profacterro families, whose FBI files were thicker than the city phonebook.  
  
DiNozzo, a handsome man who looked younger than his fifty years, with his hundred-dollar haircut and designer clothes, was conceited and slick in a way that irritated Gibbs to no end. A background check revealed DiNozzo to be a high-level player, who dabbled in overpriced shorefront properties and high-rise real estate, who was involved in corporate takeovers and the kind of business deals that were typically made over single malt whiskies and Royal Habanos. The man rubbed shoulders with Washington politicians and Manhattan developers and vacationed in hotspots that only the rich and famous could afford. DiNozzo Sr. was known in certain circles to be the man to call in to help seal the big deal. With the added incentive of getting a blowjob from his son, thought Gibbs.  
  
Nobody had a bad word to say about DiNozzo Sr., and when anyone said anything good about the man their smile did not reach their eyes. Gibbs' gut was rarely wrong; he was convinced that DiNozzo was either involved in the disappearance of Seaman Jacobs or that he was hiding something. Or both. Something about DiNozzo just damned well smelled bad.  
  
Throughout the investigation of Private Greenlee's death, Gibbs' mind kept going back to that hot summer day out on Long Island, and not just because it was when he'd first met Tony lounging next to the sparkling swimming pool, all smart mouth and tantalizing smiles.  
  
***  
  
 _Late Summer, 1991, DiNozzo estate, Great Neck, Long Island, NY_  
  
DiNozzo Sr. answered Gibbs' questions with an insincere smile on his lips, glibly assuring the federal agent that he would do everything in his power to help bring the criminal that NCIS sought to justice. But, he insisted, he hadn't even met the missing man and did not know the older man who had allegedly bought him drinks. Gibbs pushed and prodded a bit but DiNozzo was skilled at deflection and was wasting the NCIS agent's time, so Gibbs checked his notes and asked if he could interview his son.  
  
DiNozzo stood at Gibbs' side at the French doors in the sunroom and pointed to his teenaged son, Anthony Jr., relaxing by the pool.  
  
Even from a distance Gibbs was unduly attracted to the long-legged, tanned young man who lounged poolside like a sensuous cat. Gibbs kept a neutral expression firmly in place, but DiNozzo Sr. was looking at the NCIS agent speculatively.  
  
"My boy," DiNozzo said, his voice low and suggestive. "My boy is special. He goes with me to board meetings, contact negotiations, private parties…everywhere he's needed. Has done since his mother died. We negotiated a deal, so Junior will be going to Ohio State this fall, to play sports in some hick state, just like he wants. Sounds like a movie: Junior DiNozzo Goes to College."  
  
DiNozzo chuckled as if amused by his son's choice of a college but Gibbs could tell that the man was irked. Gibbs wondered how the boy had convinced his father to let him out of his sight. Maybe the kid was a good negotiator, just like his father, but Gibbs wondered what young Anthony had traded for his freedom.  
  
DiNozzo sighed for effect. "I'll miss him. He's quite useful at times." With an oily expression that Gibbs classified as perverted, misplaced pride, DiNozzo said, "Anthony can charm a hard-on out of a ninety-year-old millionaire who's never so much as looked at a boy before. He's quite talented, my boy is."  
  
Gibbs's gaze remained on the tanned young man lying out on the patio, afraid that if he looked into DiNozzo's eyes at that point he'd see something dark and evil. The man didn't call Anthony his son, never acknowledged their familial connection. He referred to him as 'his boy,' as if the young man was an object, a tool to be used.  
  
At that point everything Gibbs knew about Anthony was gleaned from the background material Stan Burley had dug up. One thing about Stan, he was always thorough in his research.  
  
Anthony's mother died when he was eight, an auto accident. No close relatives on his father's side; a few on the mother's, some in England. At the age of ten, the boy was sent to a military academy in Rhode Island. Teachers said he was introverted when around elders, was well liked by his fellow students, yet seemed to have a sensitive side he worked hard at covering up. A smart kid with a smart mouth.  
  
When he was fourteen Anthony left the military academy, for reasons that even Stan had not been able to uncover, and from then on the boy attended a private school near his family home. Anthony was a day student, lived at home, and his father had arranged for a driver to take his son to and from school. Senior was often away, but there were always servants on hand to take care of the kid's basic needs. Gibbs figured it was about that time that Anthony's old man had discovered his son had a talent at closing deals and started to keep him on a short leash.  
  
Anthony was good at sports and history, did well on his SATs, and was soon heading to Ohio State on a sports scholarship. Never in any trouble with the law, or nothing on the books, anyway. Senior had the clout and the money to make any small infractions go away.  
  
DiNozzo was regarding his son through the French doors, smiling and utterly sure of himself. "My boy always does exactly what I tell him to do, Agent Gibbs. He is irreplaceable."  
  
"Quite the handy commodity," said Gibbs sarcastically.  
  
Apparently the interview was at an end because DiNozzo opened the doors and waved Gibbs outside. "Ask him whatever you like about your missing man. I told him to help you."  
  
Gibbs stepped out onto the sunny patio, glad to be away from DiNozzo Sr. He walked over the soft, incredibly green lawn, to the side of young man by the pool, and asked, "How old are you, kid?"  
  
He was entranced by scent of coffee suntan lotion and a pair of very inviting green eyes. Then and there he fell for the kid's allure, kissing him even when he knew that Tony's father was watching. Or maybe he covered Tony's mouth with his own and tasted him, all illicit, sensuous pleasure, with soft lips and slick tongue, because he knew they were being observed. All Gibbs knew was that at that very moment, there was nobody in the world but himself and Tony.  
  
***  
  
 _Arlington, VA, 1992_  
  
Gibbs was happy to finally be heading home, and with Tony safely at his side. Being called in to work on a case, on a day off, was nothing new but he usually didn't have a guest with whom he'd rather spend his free time. And he was definitely looking forward to spending some more personal time with Tony. They had that night and most of tomorrow. He still hadn't figured out what he was going to do with Tony in the long run, but there was no way he was going to let this weekend be only that - a brief if bright affair.  
  
Gibbs had felt the pull of marriage before; he knew what this tugging at his heart meant. He wanted this to be long term and he was sure that Tony felt the same way. The problem was that he certainly couldn’t marry or even keep this kid. Gibbs had a sudden vision of keeping Tony locked up in the master bedroom, waiting for him, naked and bound, when he came home from work. Gibbs took a deep breath and gripped the steering wheel a bit harder. It wasn't sensible, feasible or even possible for so many reasons and yet…there had to be a way.  
  
Tony hadn't spoken since they'd started the trip home, but they were about ten minutes away from Gibbs' place when he cleared his throat and asked, "Did you ever find out what happened to that guy who was missing? The one who was at my father's party in Manhattan last summer?"  
  
"Seaman Jacobs? Not yet. We will," Gibbs said with more confidence than he felt, even though discovering the bodies of two murdered young men would help further their investigation. Everything was going too slow as far as he was concerned, and there could very well be other victims before they figured out who the hell was out there killing young military men. There were plenty of unsolved serial killer murders in the recent past: the Freeway Killer, Zodiac, and the alphabet murders, to name a few.  
  
Tony fiddled with the seatbelt and then asked hesitantly, "Were…were there others?"  
  
He wondered if Tony already knew the answer to that question. In his face-to-face interview last summer with Tony's father, Gibbs had only questioned him about Seaman Jacobs because at that time they hadn't even been aware that there may be a dozen or more missing - and most likely murdered - young men. On the phone two weeks earlier Gibbs had revealed to Tony's father that they had Brownlee's body as well as Petty Officer Soto's as evidence, and the agent had implied they had new leads on the killer. Gibbs turned to ask Tony, "Your father tell you I phoned a couple of weeks ago?"  
  
Tony looked surprised. "You called my father? No, he didn't tell me. What's going on?"  
  
Gibbs decided to be upfront with Tony; there was no reason to hide the facts. "More than a dozen young men have gone missing in the past two years along the east coast. NCIS recovered a body out of the Potomac last fall and another two weeks ago. They were both kidnapped, tortured, raped and killed. Those are the only two bodies we have found but we believe that the others have been murdered as well."  
  
***end chapter 13***


	14. Jumping Ship

Ducky had autopsied Private Brownlee two weeks ago, and he confirmed that the marks on the body were similar to those he'd found on Soto. "Fortunately neither of the young men had been in the water for very long, although whoever the killer is, it appears he is very careful about not leaving any evidence."

"He wasn't all that careful with tying the weights, Ducky," Gibbs had pointed out.

Dr. Mallard had added, "The clothing and dog tags of the victims may have been retained by the killer as trophies. Plus, these unfortunate young men were kept alive and abused for several days before they were killed, so it is likely they were held in a secluded and secure location, one that may very well be difficult to find."

Chen from Forensics had cited faulty rope, rather than poorly tied knots, as a reason for the weights coming loose. The specialist had noted. "The knots were tied the same way on both bodies. Nautical, secure knots. The tarps and the rope itself, as well as the material used for weighting the bodies are too common to be of any help, I'm afraid."

Gibbs had left and was stepping into the elevator when Chen called him back, excited by new findings. "The chemical analysis of his blood just came up, Agent Gibbs. There are very slight traces of flunitrazepam, which is the fluorinated methylamino derivative of nitrazepam." At Gibbs narrow-eyed stare, Chen quickly amended, "It's a date rape drug. Renders the subject compliant."

As he left Gibbs said, over his shoulder, "Good work, Chen."

***

Tony swallowed hard and seemed to carefully consider his next words. "Do you suspect my father of kidnapping and killing more than a dozen young men, Special Agent Gibbs?"

Gibbs glanced over at Tony and caught sight of his expression when an approaching car's headlights swept through the pickup's cab. There was a mix of apprehension and fear on Tony's face that made Gibbs' stomach turn over. //He's scared I'm going to tell him his father is a murderer.//

Before Gibbs could tell Tony that his father was not a prime suspect in the abduction/murders, Tony gave a tight smile and said lightly, "I'll bet a lot of kids join the Navy without knowing what they're getting into, and once reality sets in, and they see what they've signed up for, they jump ship. Not exactly McHale's Navy."

Replying to Tony's initial question, Gibbs said, "I believe your father knows something about the case. It's a gut feeling. And these men are not believed to be AWOL. That suggests they'll turn up eventually - alive - and I don't hold out any hope of that."

Tony took that in and nodded, and Gibbs noticed his shoulders were still tense. Tony asked, "How old were you when you joined the Marines, Jethro?"

"A little older than you. I was in a hurry to leave home. I wasn't exactly a model Marine at first, getting into fights and stuff, but I learned fast. Had some good role models though. I was proud to serve."

"I've never figured on going into the military as a career, and anyone who knows me will say that's a good thing. I'd serve if I was called up, of course, but I'm going to have a career in sports," Tony said with confidence. "Football is my first choice, even though I got a scholarship in basketball. Have to keep my grades up. My father pays for my room and board in exchange for…" He changed the subject again, saying, "Jacobs drank a couple of gimlets. I remember that." Tony focused on a distant point, thinking back to his father's party in the city that night last summer. "He was sorta cute, looked younger than 18 though. Definitely interested in finding someone older, someone with experience."

"I met Seaman Jacobs' parents in Queens," Gibbs said, remembering the folks who swore their son was not a deserter. "Nice folks, still very worried about what happened to their son." DiNozzo Sr. might have told his son things that he'd never reveal to a Fed. "Has your father told you if he knows the man who bought Jacobs drinks?"

"The bourbon-on-the-rocks guy in the nice suit? I asked Dad about him, after you and I had our little talk by the pool." Tony looked at Gibbs' mouth in a way that made it clear he was thinking about their first kiss. "Dad said he didn't know anything about the guy," he said absently, licking his bottom lip. "What're we having for dinner?"

"Beans," Gibbs said sharply, annoyed at the way Tony kept switching the subject like a yo-yo. It was hard to figure out if it was intentional or not. "You think you could work with an artist on a drawing of the man's face?" The bartender at DiNozzo Sr.'s party had helped them come up with a sketch, plus they'd had a description from several people. They still hadn't identified the man and it wouldn’t hurt to get one more sketch of the guy. Trying to find a match by hand was hard work, and the latest facial recognition software worked only if there was a mug shot in any of the federal databases.

"Beans? Can we play boot camp tonight with you as the tough drill instructor? It'll be fun." Tony leered suggestively, apparently looking forward to some role-playing. "Bill Murray in 'Stripes,' or 'Biloxi Blues.'"

"Boot camp isn't supposed to be fun," Gibbs growled, not familiar with the references Tony was making.

Tony laughed. "Anyone who had you as their instructor, and didn't find the experience to be a whole hell of a lot of fun, has to be crazy." He said, without changing his tone, "I can work with your sketch artist. I have no problem remembering faces, and movie casts and plots, but I can't remember what I had for dinner last night. Sorta weird, isn't it?" After a beat he said, just as casually, "My father lied to you. He knows who that man is."

Gibbs' head snapped around. "What?"

Tony continued on as if Jethro hadn't questioned him. "Maybe we can stop and pick up some Chinese if all you have is canned beans, Jethro. Remember that scene in 'Blazing Saddles' with the cowboys sittin' around a campfire eating baked beans and farting in time to 'Camptown Ladies'?"

Gibbs barely restrained himself from slapping the back of Tony's head. "DiNozzo! Focus! Your father knows the man we're looking for?"

All traces of amusement left Tony's face. "Yeah, Mr. Bourbon-on-the-rocks came to the house with his boss, who had a meeting with Dad. It was really late and I was asleep but their voices woke me up. I got a look at him, and he was the same guy who bought your sailor drinks."

"When was this?"

"Two weeks ago."

Finally home, Gibbs pulled into his driveway and parked in front of the garage, switched off the engine, released his seatbelt and turned to face Tony. "You knew I was trying to ID this man since August and yet you never called me to tell me you'd seen him in your own house?" He hadn't been able to keep the anger out of his voice and he saw Tony cringe a little.

Tony didn't look at Gibbs, just shook his head. "I…I couldn’t. I taped your business card to the back of the mirror in my room, and I memorized your phone number, but I couldn’t call you. My father would kill me," he said matter-of-factly. "I couldn’t tell anybody."

// _My father would kill me._ // Gibbs realized that Tony meant that literally and it shook him. The way Tony had said it, as if it was a given; he obviously believed his own father would kill him for ratting to the Feds. Gibbs wanted to demand why Tony hadn't told someone - anyone - of authority what he'd seen, what he knew, and what his father had been doing to him all these years, heaping all kinds of abuse on him. It had been going on for years, fucking years now!

But Gibbs knew it took a lot to make a victim turn on their abuser, and to even admit that they've been abused was a monumental step, especially if had been going on for any length of time. He couldn’t even begin to imagine what Tony had been going through and the utter isolation he must have felt. Well, he was opening up a bit and now he had Gibbs on his side. He reached out and laid a hand on Tony's arm, just to give the young man support, trying to keep his anger at DiNozzo Sr. under wraps. "But you're telling me now," Gibbs said, encouraging Tony to take that first step.

Tony nodded and said reluctantly, "Guess I am."

The neighbor's back porch lamp shone enough light on Tony's face for Gibbs to make out his expression. The young man was leaning his shoulder against the door of the pickup, making himself small, struggling with whatever was going through his mind, so Gibbs spoke in a gentle yet firm manner. "Just take it slow and tell me what happened. You saw the man who was with Seaman Jacobs…"

Tony nodded but it took a couple of minutes before he spoke. His voice was quiet and strained, apparently finding it difficult to open up. "It was about two weeks ago. My father was flying out the next morning on a business trip and he wanted me to go with him. He made me go all the way to New York and then when his friend shows up he changes his mind. Dad said he was taking him instead, along with his friend's assistant."

"Your bourbon-on-the-rocks guy?"

"Yeah, him. So Dad told me to forget it, to fly back to Ohio, which was fine by me." Tony shrugged. "Whatever. I didn't want to be away from school at that time anyway 'cause I needed to get in some practice with the team and I had a bio exam coming up. They were already gone by the time I got up."

"Where'd they go?"

"The Bahamas. Dad likes to get a tan and do his business and banking all in one trip. I don't ask questions but I saw the travel information on his desk. Learned early on I'd get the back of a hand if I did." Tony's smile grew broader until he was grinning. "Doesn't mean I'm deaf or blind, though. Everything I ever needed to know about offshore banking I learned by standing right behind my dad. I'm not half as dumb as he thinks I am, either. I've made some good investments with any money I've earned and it's tucked away in the Caymans where nobody can get their hands on it, not even my father," he said with pride.

There was something heart-rending in the way Tony shrugged off being used by his father, and the way he was proud of squirreling away his earnings all on his own. Gibbs wondered how many times and under what circumstances the boy had been pushed aside, left behind, treated as if he was of no consequence - unloved and unimportant. That is, until his father wanted to use him, to whore him out in order to sweeten some business deal.

What was it that bastard of a father had said to Gibbs in the sunroom at the estate? // _"Anthony can charm a hard-on out of a ninety-year-old millionaire who's never so much as looked at a boy before. He's quite talented, my boy is."_ //

DiNozzo Sr. was wrong, so wrong about Tony being 'his boy.' //No longer, you sick bastard. Tony will never be yours. He's mine now.// Gibbs became all the more determined to get Tony away from his father. What the hell he was going to do with him, Gibbs didn't have a clue, not yet. But first he needed to get the rest of the story out of Tony. "The men your father met that night…" he prompted.

"Yeah. Dad called his friend's assistant Briggs."

"Did you see his face?"

"No. I saw his back though, going into the living room, before I snuck into the study, right next door. I'm positive he was the man who bought Jacobs drinks at the party. Same body type, same hairline."

"You said his boss was there." Tony didn't reply and stared out the window for so long that Gibbs shook his arm to bring him back. "Hey, who does Briggs work for?"

"I d-don't know his name," Tony said, his voice nearly a whisper. He wrapped his arms tightly around his body, but he was trembling.

Gibbs was used to interrogations where he had to draw information out of a suspect or victim, one word at a time. It was frustrating, but often necessary, to be very patient and methodical. But this was Tony, and he appeared to have been traumatized by something he'd seen or been through, so Gibbs spoke slowly, and in a gentle voice. "Is Briggs' boss in business with your father?"

Tony nodded. He bit his bottom lip and then said, "I only m-met him once b-before, a long time ago. Ever since then Dad's made me stay in my room when he visits. Dad hardly ever talks about h-him but I know they go way back."

Gibbs frowned at Tony's stuttering when he talked about his father's friend. He had a bad feeling about the man, whoever he was. "What were they talking about that night?"

"They made Briggs leave them and wait in the TV room. I…I listened in, from the study."

Gibbs almost smiled at the picture of Tony with an ear to the door, getting the lowdown on his father's shady business deals. "You often use a glass to the wall, DiNozzo?"

Tony looked a little sheepish. "Not exactly - the walls are too thick. I use the updated version. It's a sound amplifier, like people who are hard of hearing use. Looks like a transistor radio with little earphones." He shrugged. "Bought it at Gadget Shack. Works pretty well."

Impressed by the junior-detective work, Gibbs asked, "So what d'ya overhear, Tony?"

"Dad's friend told my father he was not happy. Dad griped that he wasn't exactly happy either. That he'd had a Fed sniffing around, hounding him. I guess that would be you, Jethro, phoning, asking about the missing sailor. My father said he couldn’t afford that kind of attention and Briggs shouldn't have come to his party in the first place." Tony looked straight at Gibbs for the first time since he'd started the conversation. "You really pissed them off, Jethro." For a couple of seconds a smile flickered across his mouth and then it disappeared.

Yeah, he knew he'd hit DiNozzo Sr.'s buttons with that phone call a couple of weeks ago. Though why that would piss off this un-named friend, who he didn't know, Gibbs had no idea. At that moment Gibbs wanted, very badly, to reach out and comfort Tony, to draw him into his arms, but he had to hold off for a bit longer. He guided Tony by asking, "Did any of them indicate in any way that they were involved in the disappearance of Seaman Carl Jacobs?"

"They never said Jacob's name. I heard Dad's friend say they took the sailor boy further downriver the last time. 'Sailor boy' - that's urban slang for gay, right? Dad was mad. I could tell 'cause his voice gets sort of flat when he gets really angry. But this guy, his friend…he said he was expecting another delivery when he got back from the Bahamas and Dad would just have to deal with it."

"Another delivery?" Gibbs had a bad feeling about this.

Tony looked at Gibbs with widening eyes as it finally sunk in. "Shit, you think Briggs and his boss abducted and killed Jacobs, don't you? I didn't realize…Dad said that he wasn't getting involved, and his friend said he was already in it up to his neck. I thought it was business as usual, all about economics and trading information with some guy from South America, not murder…"

Gibbs thought it over. Yeah, it fit…Briggs, front man for his boss, must have gone to DiNozzo's party last summer on the lookout for their next victim, or maybe he chose Seaman Jacobs out of the blue, and then enticed him somewhere more private and overpowered him. Briggs could have dropped something into Jacob's drink. Easy enough to do in a noisy, crowded party with lots of distractions. Ducky had said there was a trace of a chemical in Brownlee's bloodstream that may have been residue from a sedative.

Tony's voice shook a little when he said, "Fuck, they were talking about killing another sailor, weren't they? Briggs, he kidnapped Jacobs, and all those other guys you were talking about, didn't he? I didn't know what was going on, Gibbs. Honest." Tony shifted in the seat so he was facing Gibbs. "You know, when you first asked me about your missing sailor, I thought he must have found someone to be his sugar daddy because he didn't want to go back to his ship, that's all. I had no idea there were others missing. Now you tell me there are all those others, m-murdered. I mean, how could anyone…?"

Gibbs wondered, how could he explain what went on in the mind of anyone who committed serial kidnappings, rapes and murders? Hell, he didn't have any more of an idea that Tony did. A better question was: how hands-on was DiNozzo Sr.? Was he acting as a pimp and choosing victims for his old buddy, or did he take a more active part in the crimes? Maybe he helped dispose of the evidence, though Gibbs couldn’t see the well-manicured man hefting tarpaulin-wrapped bodies into the river. Or maybe, just maybe, he wasn't involved at all. No, he was part of this. At the very least, DiNozzo knew about the crimes being committed by his friend and Briggs.

Gibbs voice sounded harsh when he asked, "Anything else I should know, Tony?"

"Nothing much, except…" Tony looked away briefly, seemingly embarrassed. "Dad was scared."

Gibbs raised his eyebrows because he couldn't picture Anthony DiNozzo Sr. being scared of anything unless it was fear of losing his personal property or his liberty.

Tony looked at Gibbs and read his mind. "My father isn't scared of anyone. I mean he might be wary of a competitor, but not scared so he'd show it. Except…he seemed scared of his best friend."

"What do you know about this friend of your father's?" Gibbs asked, trying to piece the parts together, trying not to jump to any conclusions just yet, even if it sounded right.

Tony ran a hand through his hair and collected himself. In a surprisingly unemotional voice he said, "They belong to the same frat, Sigma Chi. I saw his ring. It's like Dad's, with a white cross. I don't know exactly what he does now but he used to be in the military." Gibbs stiffened at that so Tony added, "I might be banished to my room but they get really loud when they drink and talk about business deals, and overseas investments and political shit. They name-drop - congressmen and senators and who on the Hill they should rub shoulders with. My father does what his friend tells him to do, like he leases a suite at the Excelsior Grand 'cause he told him it would be good for business."

"Here in DC?" It both alarmed and interested Gibbs that DiNozzo Sr. had a place in the city.

"Yeah, Dad flies down in his company jet and invites bigwigs to fly with him. That's how he makes friends and does business deals. His friend comes from New York, lives in one of the boroughs, I think. He said something about commuting to Washington National from La Guardia."

Gibbs wondered how it was that Tony knew so much about his father's business friend - Senior's best buddy and frat brother, the guy that DiNozzo listened to and vacationed with, the only man in the world that Daddy was scared of - and yet he didn't know his name.

***

Gibbs tried to shake off the image of Tony giving mile-high blowjobs in the company jet as Dad consorted with his latest business buddies over drinks. There, only a few aisles away and in plain sight was Tony, naked and on his knees, his nipple rings glinting in the overhead cabin lights, and his mouth firmly attached to a middle-aged man's cock that was jutting out of the fly of his designer-label trousers. Tony was making obscene sounds of appreciation, his hands frantically clutching the bigwig's thighs, his lips and tongue and throat working, swallowing the man's cock like a pro.

When Gibbs looked closer he saw that Tony was wearing some kind of metal contraption that entrapped his genitals and made it impossible for him to become fully erect or ejaculate. The chastity device was fitted with a steel anal plug locked in place to prevent any potential clients from getting a free taste of his young ass.

Tony, mouth still sucking, was now making mewling sounds, his own hips rocking. The businessman held Tony's head to his groin, his large hands gripping the youth's hair while his hips jerked and his cock slid in and out of the young man's mouth in time to his open-mouthed grunts. Then the man shuddered and cried out and came in Tony's mouth, and when his labored breathing evened out and he withdrew, Gibbs was relieved to see his softening dick was sheathed in a condom.

Not so pleasing was the smile of satisfaction on Tony's face that Gibbs could see. Nor the way DiNozzo Sr. was nodding his approval and smiling broadly, showing off an impressive set of glistening white teeth. Tony's father stood over his still-naked son and absently patted him on the head while he talked business with his new client.

***

Gibbs had to take some deep breaths to come down a little from his horny daydream. He hoped to God that's all it was, just a disturbing fragment of his overactive imagination. He forced himself to concentrate on the case at hand, which wasn't easy.

Gibbs was sure that this friend of DiNozzo's was the man they'd been looking for in connection with the missing men. That the man's identity was still unknown didn't bother him because they'd track him down soon enough. That he might strike again was a distinct possibility but Gibbs had a feeling they had some more time before that would happen. The sailors had all gone missing about two months apart, and so far that pattern had never changed. Gibbs didn't believe in coincidences and yet they could occur. For Tony to be the one to connect Seaman Jacobs with Mr. Bourbon-on-the-rocks Briggs, and he with DiNozzo Sr. and then with the as yet unnamed old friend…it was a fortunate set of circumstances that had led them this far. Now it was up to the team at NCIS to gather the proof needed for the arrest and eventual conviction of everyone involved.

"I need to locate Briggs," Gibbs said to Tony. "We need to pull him in for questioning because he's the last person to be seen with Jacobs. You know if he or his boss stays at the Excelsior Grand?" It sounded like Briggs did his boss's bidding but that didn't make him blameless. Now that they had at least part of his name, he was a good place to start.

Tony shook his head. "Dad's friend lives part time in DC. He owns a house but I don't know where. I don't know anything about Briggs. I only saw him briefly," he said, sounding anxious.

Gibbs placed a hand on Tony's shoulder. "It's okay, Tony. I'll get Burley to start looking into it first thing in the morning. With the information you've given me we might get somewhere this time. You did good."

After a moment Tony said hesitantly, "Gibbs? Even if my dad knows anything about…what's been going on, there's no way he'd do something like that. Look, my father's a piece of work and he'll take you to the cleaners and fuck your wife if it'll forward his cause but he would never…he's not gonna rape and torture some poor kid. I mean he's not a bad man."

Gibbs was astounded and infuriated that Tony could still defend his father, but the ties that bound the father and son ran deep, and they would be difficult to sever. Being mad at Senior, at Tony's apparent blind devotion, wasn't going to help. It wasn't Tony's fault; none of this was. One thing for sure, Gibbs wasn't going to give up until those damned ties were cut for good and Tony was finally free of his old man.

"Let's go in," Gibbs said.

But Tony grabbed his arm. "Wait…I…I have to tell you something and if I don't say it now…"

*** end chapter 14 ***


	15. Sunny Days

From the distressed look on Tony's face, Gibbs knew that whatever the younger man had to relate was not going to be easy to hear. He assured him, "I'm listening, Tony. I'll always listen."

"I…I didn't tell you the whole truth."

Gibbs heart sank and he asked curtly, "You're going to tell me now?"

Tony nodded. He licked his lips and took a breath before starting. "When I was fourteen we were at our summer place out in the Hamptons, and Dad - he was between wives. I was just out of the academy, really skinny and tripping over my big feet all the time. I was going to be going to private school when we went back to Great Neck, living at home so I could start to learn Dad's business." Tony looked out the truck window into the dark and seemed to be stuck somewhere deep in the past. "That was how he put it, anyway."

Gibbs already knew all this about Tony from the investigation into DiNozzo Sr., but he told himself to be patient. It was obvious that Tony was leading up to something and Gibbs knew he wasn't going to like it.

Just when it looked like Tony wasn't going to continue, he said in a flat tone of voice, "You know how you can sense when there's something… _wrong_ with a person? Like maybe your Dad has an old friend who comes to visit for a weekend, and Dad takes him to the beach club and they go sailing, and they have cocktails out on the porch and talk about old times. This friend's a war hero, Dad says, and he brings you presents so you have to treat him right, but every time he comes near you the hair stands up on the back of your neck. You think you're being paranoid because he's a grown-up and everyone says he's a nice man and you shouldn't h-hate him for no good reason, and it's a b-bright sunny day and there can't be anything wrong going on if it's sunny outside, right?"

The short hairs stood up on the back of Gibbs neck at the way Tony was speaking. "Tony? Who is this man?"

Tony chewed his thumb for a while, a faraway look in his eyes, and then he shook his head as if to clear it. "What? Oh…" He turned his eyes, luminous and strangely blank, in Gibbs' direction. "Dad just gave me instructions t-to call him 'Sir' when he made me g-go to his room. Dad said I had to let his f-friend d-do whatever he wanted to do to me."

There was more. Gibbs could see it in Tony's face. He knew he had to listen, for Tony's sake. What he really wanted to do was hit something but even more Gibbs needed to get out of the pickup and yell and hit something. Instead he sat there with his hands clenched into fists, willing himself to hide his anger in case Tony misinterpreted it as being directed at him. He had a pretty good idea of what Tony was about to tell him, and he did not want to hear it, not from Tony's lips. This was Tony, _his Tony_ , not some witness or faceless victim he didn't know. For God's sake, he _knew_ Tony, he loved him far more than he thought possible, and above all he wanted to keep him safe and secure.

Within the space of one day, a mere 24 hours, this young man had captured his heart, with his humor and sex appeal, and with that strange undercurrent of vulnerability that was at odds with the wanton, cocky, and not-quite-adult male, whose eyes sometimes reflected that he'd seen far too much already in his lifetime. But there was more to Tony than his damned good looks, and that sly way he had of peering up from under his eyelashes with the corners of his lips lifting just enough that they gave a hint of some dirty thought he was about to act upon. There was so much more than the way he touched and kissed and moaned when in the throes of lovemaking, and the way that his raw need encouraged Gibbs to respond with equal passion.

But the Tony who sat next to Gibbs in his truck right now - the boy who was hunched over with his arms wrapped tight around his belly like he was trying to hold himself together, his shoulders shaking, scared shitless yet trying damned hard to trust Gibbs with something terrible that was locked away inside of him - _this_ Tony needed his help.

Gibbs said with exaggerated care, "Come here." He held out his arms and in a second Tony was clinging to his side, his nose pressed into Gibbs' neck as his body shook and released an occasional ragged breathe that sounded like a sob. All Gibbs could do was hold him close and stroke his hand down Tony's back, murmuring soothing things like, "It's all right," and "I've got you now," and "My boy, my boy," and feeling far too inadequate and out of his depth to be of any use. "Jesus, Tony," Gibbs whispered in his hair.

After a few minutes, without raising his head, Tony struggled to say, "He tied me facedown on the bed and he hit me and I screamed for my dad but he didn't come. He…he got behind me and he…He di-didn't fu-fuck me for long 'cause I sto-stopped struggling and I sorta blanked out. I just looked out the window at the kids playing on the beach." Tony pulled back enough to raise his face, eyes swimming in tears, and swiped at them angrily with his sleeve. "He got really mad, kept yelling at me to stop being a baby, to show some fight, to be a little soldier. And then my dad, he came in, and they had a fight, sh-shouting at each other. I…I couldn’t m-move."

"Shhh. It's over. It's over. It's never gonna happen again, Tony. I promise you." Gibbs found some crumpled but probably clean tissues in his pocket and wiped away the moisture from Tony's face as best he could, still holding onto him with one arm around his shoulders. "It's gonna be fine. You're safe now. I'm here, Tony."

"He-he wanted someone who'd fight back. He got off on it. That's why he likes young men who'll fight him. Doesn't want a sniveling little boy who just lies there and takes it. Dad made him give me back, said he didn't want me damaged like that. I think…I think Dad was sorta disturbed by the whole scene," Tony said, as if it were a revelation, "even though he was waiting in the next room while his best friend was beating and fucking his kid." Tony gave a shaky laugh and lowered his face again to rest his head on Gibbs' shoulder. "Dad's friend was really pissed, his face all red. I was hopin' he was gonna have a stroke or something."

"Only you, Tony, could make someone that mad," Gibbs said. He held Tony's head to his chest and kissed his temple. "That's my boy."

"Got lots of practice with getting my father angry," Tony said. He let out a long, uneven sigh. "I'm o-okay now. I'm fine. Just hadn't thought about that for a long time. I can usually put the bad things away so I don't have to think about them."

Gibbs understood that all too well. There were some things he'd never thought about too deeply because they were just too painful, and what good would it do to conjure up the past? He hugged Tony and rocked him for a long while, but it was getting cold in the truck and it was high time they moved into the house. Gibbs took a deep breath and said, "Let's go inside and get you some food." And he was going to call Stan and get him to find Briggs' whereabouts, and then he'd have to go in and speak to Franks, to lay it all out. That could wait until morning though. See what they could do about finding DiNozzo's old friend, this Sir, who just might be their serial killer. Tony would need to tell his story again, and they would have to come clean about Tony's identity. He didn't look forward to the can of worms that was about to open but they had no choice.

"Bet you need a big mug of coffee," Tony said with a small laugh even though his eyes weren't smiling.

"Yeah, that'd be good." What he really wanted was a blisteringly hot shower and a really strong drink, but Tony needed to have a decent meal and a steady shoulder to lean on.

Tony raised his head and sought a kiss, and Gibbs made sure that when he reciprocated it was gentle and reassuring. "I really am fine," Tony said.

"I know you are. You're very strong and I'm proud of you." He kissed Tony's mouth again, gently, wishing he could make all the bad memories and all the horror go away.

Tony hadn't finished though, and he leaned into Gibbs and said, "I stayed with my cousins in England for the rest of the summer and when I came back in September my father was married. His third wife, Sonja. It didn't last long though. I was going with Dad to his meetings again and doing my thing. The first time I did it I cried the whole time and could hardly breathe with his fat dick in my mouth but the guy seemed to get off on it." He gave a half-hearted shrug. "I think Sonja figured out what was going on and didn't like it, 'cause when she was heading out the door she told me she was sorry." Tony ran the back of his hand over his nose and Gibbs found some more tissues that he pressed into his hand. "Thanks," said Tony and then blew his nose.

Gibbs could see the tears streaming down Tony's face in shiny rivers, but the kid was talking as if he was giving a weather report.

"I told my dad I'd do anything he wanted so long as that ma-man never t-touched me again. I lived at home and went to prep school just a few miles away, so when Dad needed me he pulled me out of school. They never asked any questions. He'd take me into Manhattan, and a couple of times he flew me out west, just to seal a deal by sucking some corporate dick."

Gibbs ran a gentle hand over Tony's hair, cupped his cheek and murmured, "Don't, baby, don't," thinking his heart was going to break if he heard any more.

"Can I tell you something, Jethro?"

God damn, how could there be more to tell? He stroked Tony's wet cheek and nodded. "You can tell me anything, Tony."

Tony sniffed and then said quietly, but firmly, "If I ever see Sir again I am going to kill him."

Gibbs had heard a lot of threats over the years, from red-faced defendants shouting they'd murder their lawyers across a civilized courtroom, to soldiers roaring promises of death at the top of their lungs towards their armed enemies during the heat of battle, but he had never heard the words said so softly before. The quiet declaration had a strength all its own and Gibbs knew without a doubt that Tony would do exactly as he said, if given the chance. "I know you will," was all he could grind out, as anger took precedence over heartbreak. //But not if I get there first.//

Tomorrow he'd start the investigation into the man who, with DiNozzo Sr.'s permission, had raped Tony when he was fourteen, the man who had probably murdered fourteen or more young servicemen in the past two years. God, he might have been doing it longer and they hadn't yet connected the dots. Gibbs would dig deep, gather evidence and get a conviction on this Sir and his best friend Anthony DiNozzo Sr., and if those two fuckups' fancy lawyers got them off, then so much the better because Leroy Jethro Gibbs was never going to let up on the bastards who'd hurt his Tony, not until they were both dead and buried six feet under.

Gibbs kissed Tony tentatively, his tongue gently brushing across his lips. In response, the younger man dissolved in his arms and parted his lips with a sigh. After a while Gibbs pulled away and smiled. "You okay to go inside now?" Tony nodded so Gibbs maneuvered them both out of the truck on the same side and started to escort Tony, who still hadn't let go of him, the short distance to the house.

Tony stopped and said, "Wait, we have to unload the wood from the truck, Jethro."

"It can wait."

"No, we need to get it inside. It might rain tonight. I'm fine. Let's do it."

Gibbs had a good look at Tony, but apart from being pale and bearing signs of having been crying, he seemed steady on his feet. "Tell you what, we'll go inside and put the dinner on to heat, and then we'll carry the lumber down to the basement together. Deal?"

"Deal."

***

One thing Gibbs had was plenty of canned goods. He put together a beef and potato stew in a big saucepan and set it to heat while they carried the lumber down to the basement. With two of them carrying the lengths of wood, it was a sight easier than doing it by himself and the transfer went smoothly. It felt good to do ordinary things with Tony, and Gibbs knew he'd miss his company when he was gone. He smiled to himself when he thought of what an ordinary day had comprised of so far: watching Tony masturbate on the dining table first thing that morning, having incredible sex on the washing machine, buying lumber and hardware with Tony at his side as if he belonged there, having an incredible session of sex in his pickup truck, processing a crime scene and facing his co-workers both there and back in the bullpen, and then hearing some of the most heart-rending testimony of abuse from the person he loved most in the world. What else could possibly happen to top all of that off?

"You want a shower?" he suggested to Tony.

Tony nodded and went upstairs quietly without asking Gibbs to join him, or making sexy remarks or offering any looks that were at all suggestive. Between his first-hand experience with the murder investigation today, and his confession and subsequent meltdown, Tony probably needed some time alone. If he was still quiet after dinner, Gibbs would insist upon an early night and maybe they could just hold each other close and sleep.

Gibbs took one last trip outside to put his pickup in the garage and to make sure they hadn't forgotten anything. Tony's boxer briefs were on the floor of the truck, crumpled. Gibbs picked them up and raised them to his nose. The musky smell that was all sex and Tony wrapped up into one immediately caused Gibb's dick to jerk in response. He swore and smiled at the same time then gathered together his empty styrofoam coffee cups and the garbage from their take-out meal. He was about to close the truck door when something gold glinted on the floor. He picked it up - one of Tony's nipple rings. It must have fallen out of his jeans' pocket.

Back in the kitchen, Gibbs put the little gold ring on the counter then checked on the stew, which was simmering and smelled damned good. He found some bread and grabbed a couple of cold beers from the fridge. The sound of running water from the upstairs shower stopped and Gibbs quickly set utensils out on the kitchen table and went back to stir the pot. "It's ready," he called over his shoulder.

There were footsteps behind him and a woman's voice said, "How nice. Jethro. I didn't know I was invited to dinner."

Gibbs blamed himself for not paying attention, for letting his guard down, for not locking his damned front door. Slowly he turned from the stove and faced the woman he was going to ask to marry him. He tried not to sound surprised when he said, "Joan…"

***end chapter 15***


	16. Bedtime Stories

Gibbs turned from the stove and faced the woman who had somehow managed to enter his house without him hearing her. He tried not to sound surprised at her presence when he greeted her with a cautious, "Joan…"

The auburn-haired woman put her handbag on one of the kitchen chairs, removed her coat to reveal a feminine version of a power suit, and sidled up to Gibbs. She kissed him on the mouth, and might have deepened that kiss if Gibbs had not turned away to stir the stew. He stalled some more by opening the fridge and pulling out a tub of margarine and a bottle of ketchup and placing them on the table. By the time he faced the woman again he'd regained his equilibrium.

Gibbs knew for certain that didn't want Joan here, in his house, especially when there was a distinct possibility that Tony would come sauntering downstairs and through the kitchen door at any moment. And God knows what state of undress he'd be in. Gibbs still cared enough about Joan that he couldn’t tell her outright that he was only interested in the young man he'd spent the past 24 hours with.

Gibbs looked at Joan, with her elegant suit, perfect makeup, rich red hair pulled back into a sleek bun, and it hit him that he couldn't possibly marry this woman. Not that Gibbs had ever committed to Joan in so many words, but they'd become close and the implication was there. Up until a couple of days ago he'd been sure that marriage was the next step but Tony had upended his neat, orderly world. Joan had become an intruder. Whatever they'd had was over as far as he was concerned and he had to be honest with her and end it.

Joan was sipping one of the beers that Gibbs had placed on the table. Tony's beer, he thought. She had made herself comfortable and had been talking about her week, apparently for a couple of minutes, although Gibbs hadn't heard a word of it.

"…so I'm going to be out of town for at least a week," she said. "It's this damned committee but I suppose I should think of it in a positive light. After all it's great for my career, and if the Congressman keeps saying he can't do without me I suppose one day I'll actually believe him. Did I tell you…"

Joan was hard working, smart and savvy, amusing and charming, too, all qualities that had drawn Gibbs to her right from the start. It didn't hurt that she was damned good-looking and had exactly the kind of figure Gibbs was attracted to - or _had been_ before a tall, lean, masculine youth had insinuated himself into his life. Joan was also aggressive in bed, which had surprised Gibbs the first time they'd had sex at her place. He put it down to her alpha nature, which came in handy when keeping pace with the Capitol Hill politicians she worked alongside. Now Gibbs wondered if he had given in too easily, hadn't fought for the top position because he hadn't been into her quite as much as he'd convinced himself he was.

Gibbs thought about making love with Tony - the way the young man had stretched like a big cat, moaning with need. How he'd half-closed his green eyes and begged Gibbs to hurt him even as he caressed Gibbs' body, bringing him to orgasm with gentle, loving strokes.

"Jethro, are you all right? You seem…well, I was going to say quiet, but as you're usually pretty quiet I suppose I should say you're quieter than ever."

"Oh…I'm fine," he said, echoing Tony's favorite words, and almost smiling about it. "Look, Joan--." Gibbs was stepping forward to tell Joan the truth when, from out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tony walking into the kitchen. Except with Tony it was more like sauntering.

Before Gibbs could do or say anything to prevent it, Tony was saying, "Jethro, have you seen my nip-- Oh. Hi." Tony stopped and stared at their visitor, his hair damp from the shower, with the bruises on his ribs, neck and temple painfully apparent. He was wearing only very-low-slung silky pajama pants in a dark crimson color that clung to his body in a way that left little to the imagination; attached to his bare chest was a single nipple ring. He looked from the woman seated at the kitchen table to Gibbs, and back again, and then he covered his pierced nipple with his hand and smiled with us much charm as he could muster. "I'm Tony."

The gesture was so incongruous, and so _Tony_ , that Gibbs almost laughed. Where the hell had those pants come from? And if they'd been any lower they have slipped right off and Gibbs could make out the ridge of his penis when Tony shifted his weight to the other hip. Jesus.

Joan looked Tony up and down with interest and curiosity, her lips slightly parted.

The next couple of seconds seemed to last for an eternity, and Gibbs was sure it took him at least that long to close his own mouth. He came to his senses and said gruffly, "Tony, your clothes are still in the washer." Gibbs briskly walked to Tony's side, placed his hand over the bite mark on the nape of the young man's neck and guided him out of the kitchen. "Be right back, Joan," he said in a perfectly calm and ordinary tone without looking at the woman seated at his kitchen table. He could feel her gaze on his back and knew she was getting an eyeful of Tony's rear end as they walked out of the kitchen. Once safely around the corner and out of sight, Gibbs said to Tony in a terse, low voice, "Get a shirt on. One with a collar. And put on some pants."

Tony surveyed him with wide eyes, and then asked, "I can come back?"

"Yes, just…" Gibbs motioned towards Tony's bare chest. "Cover up."

"Who is that?"

"Just go." He waited until the young man was heading upstairs before going back to explain the situation to Joan, hoping he could pull it off without lying.

Joan wasn't sitting at the kitchen table any more, but was leaning one hip against the counter, studying something resting in the palm of her hand.

"Joan," Gibbs began, unsure what he was going to say - that Tony was the son of a buddy? That the kid was his lover? That something inside of him had fundamentally changed the minute he'd met Tony and that there was no going back, so thanks but no thanks, and good-bye? "First of all--."

Joan interrupted him saying in a terse voice, "I think this is what your young friend is looking for. It was on the counter." She dropped the small object she'd been inspecting into Gibbs' hand. Damn, it was Tony's missing nipple ring that he'd found on the floor of the pickup truck. She met Gibbs' eyes and gave him an odd smile, one that was colored with puzzlement and disappointment. "You know, I think that you're not what I'm looking for after all, Jethro Gibbs." She nodded, as if making a good decision, and left.

***

Gibbs poured himself the stiff drink he'd been craving for the past hour or more, and stood in the middle of the kitchen staring at Tony's gold ring nestled in the palm of his hand. Tony padded in on bare feet and peered around, looking for Joan, but it was obvious she had already left.

He now wore jeans and a gray and green plaid shirt that Gibbs usually wore when doing outdoors work. It was buttoned right up to Tony's throat and covered the hickey on the back of his neck. "I hope this is what you wanted," Tony said, seeking approval, smoothing down his hair in a nervous gesture. He stood in the center of the kitchen, making no move to touch Gibbs, looking a little bit lost.

Gibbs nodded and handed Tony his nipple ring then stepped right up to him. He took a moment to undo the top four buttons of the shirt while Tony stood there obediently. "Don't want you to strangle," said Gibbs with a slight quirk of his mouth. "I think we've had enough drama today." Besides, he enjoyed feasting his eyes upon as much of his lover's skin as possible, even if he didn't like anyone else to have the same opportunity.

Tony peered at Gibbs with worried eyes and said remorsefully, "I ruined it for you, didn't I?" Gibbs made a negative motion with his head, part 'no,' part 'I don't care,' but Tony stepped back a pace with guilt written all over his face. "I'm so sorry, Gibbs. If you want, I can go after her. I'll explain, tell her the cover story. I can make her believe me. I'm good at being convincing."

He looked around for his shoes but stopped when Gibbs said brusquely, "She's gone, Tony."

Tony spotted Gibbs' cell phone on the kitchen table, where he'd placed it when he'd come in. "Then I'll call her. Just tell me her number. Is it in here?" Gibbs didn't reply, so Tony opened the phone and tried to figure out which number in the address book belonged to Joan. "What's her last name? I can--."

"Tony, put the phone down," Gibbs ordered.

"No, I can do this! I can make everything right! Just give me a minute." Tony's head was down as he frantically fiddled with the phone, still searching for the name of the woman who had just left. "It's the least I can do. I mean, I'm only here for the weekend and she's part of your real life and--"

Gibbs spoke sharply, "Tony, put the damned phone down!"

Tony did as he was told and remained near the table, unsure of what to do, glancing occasionally towards the door through which Joan had recently walked out. Gibbs moved to the stove, stirred the stew one more time and ladled it into two bowls. He placed the meal on the table alongside the bread, got two glasses of water and a fresh bottle of beer, and sat down. When it was apparent that Tony wasn't about to join him, Gibbs said tiredly, "Tony, sit. You need to eat."

It took a moment for Tony to obey but he took the seat opposite Gibbs and picked up his spoon. He halfheartedly ate a few mouthfuls before putting the utensil down. "Can I ask you something, Jethro?"

Gibbs' shoulders tensed, remembering the last time Tony asked that question. He nodded and kept on eating.

"Are you mad at me because I ruined your chance of happiness with your lady-friend…because I ruined your weekend?" Tony asked, looking very worried. "Or is it because everything would be a whole lot better for you if I hadn't called on you for help in the first place? I guess a big part of it is because I had a sort of meltdown out there in your truck, and laid all my personal shit on you, and I'm really not much good at anything except playing sports and being a whore, though I've decided to give up the sex anyway. I mean, I know I've stumbled into your life without thinking about what all this will mean for you in the long run, and now I've really messed things up for you and Joan whatever-her-name-is, but I really care about you, Jethro, like I love you more than I've ever loved anyone, and --."

Gibbs was on his feet, hauling Tony out of his chair and into his arms, and was kissing him just to shut him up and because he needed to feel him in his arms, responding, lips soft and pliant and, _Christ_ , he wanted the whole damned world to go away and leave the two of them alone. Tony's mouth tasted of the stew and he smelled of some fancy soap that reminded him of lilacs even though somewhere in the back of his mind Gibbs knew it wasn't any soap he'd ever bought, and then Tony's tongue was slipping into Gibbs' mouth and he was moaning in a way that was so damned arousing that Gibbs was only a second away from dropping with him to the floor. Instead, he ground his hips against Tony's and deepened the kiss with a groan.

Eventually they parted, both panting and smiling, but Tony had the temerity to ask, "Are you sure you don't want me to call--," so Gibbs had to start kissing him again just to shut him the hell up.

***

They'd finished eating dinner and had drunk a couple of beers each, and were sitting there smiling at each other and thinking of heading upstairs. Gibbs was warming his hands around his coffee cup when something Tony had said came back to him. "What the hell did you mean, Tony, that you're giving up sex?"

*** end chapter 16***


	17. Demands

"What did you mean, you're giving up sex?"

Tony looked across the kitchen table at Gibbs as if he'd grown another head. "I'm giving up what?"

"You said you're no good at anything except for sports and being a whore. That you're giving up the sex." Gibbs leaned forward and grabbed hold of Tony's neck. He said fiercely, "You are not a whore, Tony. I don't ever want to hear you say that again. Understand?" Tony nodded and then turned his head to kiss the inside of Jethro's forearm. Gibbs smiled affectionately. He released his hold on Tony's neck and instead held his hand while he finished his cup of coffee. It felt good, and right, to have this physical connection with Tony.

Tony studied their intertwined fingers for a while before saying, "I _meant_ I wasn't going to do that stuff anymore for my father. No more sexual favors. I've retired."

Gibbs almost laughed at the thought of a kid Tony's age retiring, but he didn't doubt the young man's sincerity about refusing to allow his father to use him any more. "Good," Gibbs said roughly, "because I wasn't going to let you go back to him anyway. That's over now. You're mine and we're starting a life together. Clean slate. I want you safe and happy." Tony met his eyes so tenderly that Gibbs swore his heart stopped beating for a few seconds. "I love you, so get used to it," he added bluntly.

Tony stared at Gibbs, his mouth slightly open in wonder at the man's declaration.

Gibbs demanded, "You got a problem with that?"

One corner of Tony's mouth raised a little, giving him a crooked smile, and then it grew into a broad mega-watt grin that made his eyes sparkle and devastated Gibbs with its intensity. "No, no problem," Tony said happily. "No problem at all. I love you, Jethro. A lot."

"I know," Gibbs said, concealing his pleasure by lifting his coffee mug to his lips.

***

They left the plates in the sink to soak, and Gibbs locked the front door and bolted it, too, then turned out the lights and they went up to bed early. Gibbs left a fully clad Tony, partially sated by some deep kisses that held promises of more, sprawled on the bed while he went and placed a call to Stan Burley.

Gibbs didn't apologize for phoning his fellow agent on a Saturday night. "You going in tomorrow morning?" Gibbs asked even though he knew that Stan made a habit of working a few hours early every Sunday morning.

"Yeah, you know I get more done when people aren't looking over my shoulder," Stan said in a light rebuttal. When Stan said 'people' he meant Agent Franks. He tended to get an acid stomach when his boss was present and watching everything he did.

"I need you to look into something for me." Gibbs gave Stan a rundown of the pertinent info he had on DiNozzo, Sr., and on Briggs and the man he worked for, without mentioning Tony or his connection to the case. The lead agent warned Stan, "This guy called 'Sir' might be our killer, and it sounds like he may have friends in high places."

"You worried?"

"Being careful."

"You want them brought in for questioning?"

"Not yet. We need to get as much evidence as possible against them first. I don't want these fuckers falling through some damned loophole because we weren't thorough in our investigation. Start with Briggs and his boss. I want a name." Briggs and his employer might be in DC but DiNozzo would be in NY and it would be tougher to haul him across state lines. "It's gonna be sensitive so tread lightly, Stan."

"This must be important; you called me 'Stan.'" Stan sounded surprised.

"Huh…you prefer 'Probie'?"

"Uh, no thanks, _Probie_. I think that name's already taken. It's just…you've been calling me 'Steve' for months now."

"Why would I do that if your name is Stan?" asked Gibbs, sure that the smile in his voice could be heard over the phone.

"'Cause you like to yank my chain? Look Gibbs, are you bringing the boss into the loop or…?"

"I'll call Franks in the morning and bring him up to speed," Gibbs assured him. He'd known that Stan wouldn't be able to keep anything from Mike Franks, not that Gibbs would ever ask him to do that, anyway.

"Is there going to be shit flying, Gibbs?"

Gibbs laughed humorlessly. Knowing DiNozzo Sr. and his Capitol Hill connections? "Probably. Just remember to duck when it happens."

***

Finally Gibbs stepped into that hot shower he'd been yearning for and tried to wash away some of the dirty feeling that clung to him from hearing Tony's story about what his father and his friend had done to him when he was a young teen. It made Gibbs feel physically ill, but it also brought forth a strong need to protect his boy. The boiling hot water raining down on his body helped Gibbs to relax and to think, to plan his strategy. By the time he was out of the shower and had dried off, Gibbs felt a lot more balanced and ready to take care of Tony's needs.

Tony was in bed and under the covers when Gibbs emerged from the bathroom, his borrowed clothes folded neatly on the bedroom chair. Gibbs made a mental note to finish the laundry the next morning so Tony would have his own clothes to wear. He climbed into bed beside his lover and pulled him close, noticing Tony was wearing the silky pajama bottoms again. "Just want to hold you for a while," Gibbs sighed heavily into Tony's neck.

Tony murmured, "Missed you," and they shifted under the warm blankets until they were comfortable, with Tony draping his limbs over Gibbs in a familiar way. Gibbs realized he wanted to sleep like this every night, and to wake up with Tony in his arms every morning. He stroked Tony lazily, enjoying the way the silky fabric slipped back and forth across Tony's muscular thigh. "Are those my PJs?"

"Guess so. Found them in your bureau." Tony looked at Gibbs with an amused smirk. "Don't you know what clothes you own, Jethro?"

"Guess not."

Tony smiled. "They feel nice. See?" Gibbs's hand moved down and rubbed the cloth across Tony's genitals, eliciting an "Mmm" from the younger man that sounded almost like a purr.

They spent some time exploring each other's bodies with languid sweeps of hands, gentle caresses and teasing kisses, enjoying being close with plenty of time and no heavy demands. Gibbs sniffed at a flowery scent on Tony's skin and teased, "You goin' all girly on me, DiNozzo?"

Tony grinned. "I found some fancy soap in the back of the closet where you keep the towels. Smells nice?" 

"Mmm." The soap must have been a gift from one of Shannon's friends, he thought, a gift that she'd never had the opportunity to use. After thinking about the implication of his young male lover using a soap that belonged to his late wife, Gibbs decided that it didn't bother him quite as much as he thought it might. If Joan, on the other hand, had helped herself to Shannon's soap Gibbs had a feeling he'd have been really unhappy about it. Well, that affair was over quickly and somewhat painlessly; he'd gotten off damned easy. Gibbs knew he'd made the right choice and now he was committed to Tony, and to ensuring his wellbeing. He stroked Tony's hair and kissed his temple, and asked, "Are you okay? I mean really okay?"

"Sure, why wouldn’t I be?"

"Uh, well, because this has been one hell of a day."

"I'm fine when I'm with you, Jethro."

Gibbs hoped that Tony wasn't putting too much faith in him, and that he could live up to his expectations. "It must have been really hard for you to tell me all that…" Tony looked away and squirmed so Gibbs kissed him slowly and languorously until Tony settled down again. Gibbs assured him, "I'm glad you told me, Tony. I want to know everything about you, no matter if it's good or bad."

Tony turned his big eyes on the older man. "I want to know about you, too, but can we not talk about the bad stuff any more tonight?"

"Okay, not tonight, but you know we can't let them get away with this. I need to disclose everything to Agent Franks and Director Morrow and start an investigation into those men."

At first Tony didn't reply. Gibbs saw the disquiet in his expression, but eventually he nodded. "I think I've known that all along," Tony said as he raised his eyes to meet Gibbs' squarely. "I want to do the right thing. I want to make you proud of me, Jethro."

Gibbs kissed his forehead and said, "Good boy," which made Tony smile. In a low voice Gibbs added, "I'm already proud of you."

***

By mutual yet unspoken consent, Gibbs and Tony laid together in bed, petting and kissing, savoring each other's bodies. Tony ruffled Gibbs' chest hair, and licked and blew on his nipples, and found he was ticklish. Gibbs sucked the skin that connected Tony's pectoral to his clean-shaven armpit and had him writhing. Tony traced a scar on Gibbs' ribs with his lips and tongue, and asked how he'd come by it. Gibbs lightly pulled on Tony's gold nipple rings with his teeth, just enough to quicken the young man's breath.

Around eleven that night Tony said he was hungry, once again, so they went down to the kitchen and Gibbs found Tony some crackers and cheese. He wanted hot chocolate, too, so while waiting for the milk to boil they made out, with Gibbs capturing Tony's naked body against the counter. They carefully carried their mugs upstairs, Tony walking ahead so Gibbs could admire his ass. Tony complained about the lack of marshmallows and Jethro placated him by promising to buy some the next time he went grocery shopping. That was when it really hit him that he was beginning to think of Tony as being a permanent fixture in his life, and the realization made him happy deep inside.

Even so, how they were going to pull off this relationship without getting caught was of some concern. No way could Gibbs be open about having a young lover, or a male lover of any age. There were just too many potential pitfalls. He didn't give a shit about people's ignorant attitudes but he wasn't going to kid himself that being labeled as being gay would severely limit his career and would make life difficult, considering his line of work. Apart from the whole two-men-living-together thing, the bisexual or gay thing that Gibbs didn't even begin to have a handle on, there was another, more immediate problem he had to deal with. He had to determine how involved DiNozzo Sr. was with the man who Gibbs suspected of being a serial killer, and he had to bring these men to justice.

***

Tony was still in the bathroom brushing his teeth after finishing his hot chocolate, and Gibbs was in bed, getting impatient. "Hey! DiNozzo! Get your ass in here."

Tony popped his head out, a toothbrush in hand. "You tugging on my leash, Jethro?" he asked with a toothpastey smile, before he disappeared again.

Gibbs grumbled under his breath, "Yeah, well, I damn well _do_ need to put a leash on you."

A few seconds later, Tony rushed out of the bathroom and scrambled over Gibbs' legs to get into bed beside him. "All minty fresh," Tony said with a grin. "You miss me?" Gibbs' reply was to grab Tony, roll on top of him and press him into the mattress. The younger man responded with a surprised squeak that changed into laughter. "So strong," Tony said admiringly.

With his arms braced on either side of Tony, Gibbs rubbed their groins together, and felt Tony's immediate arousal. Gibbs grinned and said, "You spend too much time in the bathroom, DiNozzo."

"I do not," Tony protested. His smile faded as he realized it would soon be Sunday and he had to get back to college. "What're we going to do tomorrow? And what happens after that?" he asked anxiously.

Gibbs paused in grinding their dicks together to deliver a soft kiss to Tony's mouth. He was concerned about making promises he couldn’t keep and he didn't want to let Tony down. Somehow he'd find a way, he told himself. Somehow.

"Gibbs," Tony appealed.

Gibbs touched a couple of fingers to Tony's lips to prevent him from speaking. "Right now is all that matters, and we're going to do this," Gibbs said softly. He dipped his head and kissed Tony, tasting his young lover's mouth, seducing him with every caress of his lips. "And this…"

Tony's eyelids closed halfway and his hands slid up Gibbs' back to pull him close, accepting his full weight upon his body with a murmur of gratification. Their heads angled and the kiss deepened, and when their mouths finally parted Tony gasped, "I want all of you. Can't get enough."

"Then that's what you're going to get." Gibbs was panting with his own need as well as with the desire to give Tony everything he wanted, everything he deserved. They kissed, with slow, lingering, languid sweeps, their hunger building slowly. Gibbs groaned into Tony's mouth and allowed the younger man's teasing tongue to slide between his lips, capturing it and sucking on it until Tony whimpered. Their cocks, trapped between their bodies, were rubbing against each other and Gibbs shifted his hips back and forth, adding to the delicious friction. He raised his body just enough so he could thrust a little harder and Tony responded by moving in counterpoint, making small sounds that were blatant pleas for more. "Easy, boy," whispered Gibbs. "We have all night."

The younger man's dick, rigid and purple-veined, was hot and wet against Gibbs' groin. Tony's eyes were dark with arousal as Gibbs took the younger man's leaking cock in hand and ran his thumb along its underside then wrapped his hand around the shaft. His grip was probably too tight for comfort, but Gibbs pumped and twisted a bit to see how his lover would respond, half-expecting Tony to protest. Instead, the younger man trembled and moaned, "Harder." Soon Gibbs began to rub his thumb back and forth across the tip of Tony's fat cock and into the slit, and Tony jerked his hips in response, pushing hard into Gibbs' rough hand. Gibbs watched as Tony's eyelids slowly closed and his head tilted back, exposing his throat as he twisted on the rumpled sheets, overcome by the pleasurable sensations. He was gripping Gibbs' arms and imploring wordlessly with every rise of his hips, releasing little throaty moans of encouragement.

Tony reached between their bodies to stimulate Gibbs' genitals in a combination of strokes and squeezes that made the older man ache from his balls all the way down to his knees. Gibbs knew he wouldn’t last much longer if the torment continued so he pushed Tony's hands away and muttered, "Wait," while he grabbed a condom and lube from the bedside table. Tony took the condom from him, and rolled it onto Gibbs' dick, slowly, his almost reverent touch prompting Gibbs to shudder with desire.

Tony brought his knees to his chest, yielding, exposing himself, and Gibbs entered him, too fast and too rough, not at all as he'd intended. But then nothing had gone as he'd expected since the day he'd met Tony. He'd wanted to be gentle with Tony, to show him what _lovemaking_ felt like, sweet and tender and passionate, yet here he was, thrusting and grunting with a need to take him, to master him.

Breathing hard, Tony began to buck and fight, catching Gibbs by surprise. For a moment he thought that Tony was resisting being penetrated. Alarmed, Gibbs began to back off but Tony clutched at him and shouted, "Don't! Don't you dare stop!" Gibbs realized that his lover was being combative in order to force Gibbs to dominate him.

No matter how much Tony resisted, in the end Gibbs would exert his power over him and would win; they both knew that. Tony was arching and resisting, fighting in a frenzy of writhing limbs, one fist hitting Gibbs hard enough in the ribs to spark a flare of anger. In retaliation Gibbs grabbed Tony's arms and pressed him deep into the mattress, and fucked him as hard as he'd ever fucked anyone in his life, and when the boy finally submitted to him, it was with a trembling cry of triumph.

Gibbs set the pace with hard, searing sweeps, penetrating and withdrawing, rocking hard into him, probing and hitting that sensitive spot with unerring accuracy. Tony urged him on, rising to meet him, mumbling dirty words of encouragement that merged together to sound like a foreign language - until Gibbs shut him up by delivering a kiss to his eagerly parted lips. Gibbs withdrew partway and then plunged into his hot, welcoming body, again and again, and Tony's ragged moan was of pure pleasure, and the look on his face said that this so right, exactly what he wanted and needed.

They were both slick with sweat, all hot breath and flushed faces, groaning and grappling, aggression meeting surrender, and give sliding into take. Gibbs bit into the muscle of Tony's shoulder hard enough to make him scream, Tony's muscles trembling as he released one loud, shaky sob, before he went slack. Gibbs was breathing hard, grunting, his heartbeat thundering in his ears, his thrusts irregular and urgent, spasms shaking him with their intensity, and then he, too, came. He had a smear of Tony's blood on his teeth and the taste of iron on his tongue when he collapsed on top of him.

***

  
Gibbs laid on his back, drained and spent, with drying come smeared across his belly, the heady aroma of musk emanating from Tony's body mingling with the sweet scent of Shannon's soap. He was painfully aware that his lust had gotten the better of him, and he didn't think much of himself at that moment. Blaming his weakness on out-and-out lust was a sad excuse for a man who valued and depended upon his self-restraint and discipline.

He'd intended to be gentle and kind, considerate and understanding. He'd wanted, badly, to love Tony in the way he deserved to be loved, to treat him with respect and to prove to the young man that he merited only the best of everything. And what did he do? He acted like a dumb fuck with no regard for the one person in the whole damned world that he loved.

***end chapter 17***


	18. Sunday, Sunday

Once he'd recovered, Tony rolled over to drape himself across Gibbs' body. His lips pressed tender kisses upon Gibbs' throat, his cheeks and his mouth, and nudged Gibbs's arm, which was slung across his eyes. When Gibbs lowered his arm and dared to look at Tony, he could see the selfless and absolute love that shone in Tony's green eyes.

"That was the best, Jethro," Tony said, never breaking eye contact. Gibbs shook his head in denial, but Tony held his cheeks, framing his face with his hands, and insisted, "I've never had it so good."

"Tony," Gibbs objected, his voice rough, and placed his hands over Tony's in an attempt to remove them. His lack of control and the rough way he'd treated Tony bothered him. He'd never been like that with a woman, so abandoned and aggressive, neither had he been so rough with any of the men he'd had sex with, though admittedly the encounters had never involved more than hand-play. How was it that such a sweet boy as Tony brought out the worst in him?

Tony wouldn't budge. He was strong and he let Gibbs know it. "You give me exactly what I need." Gibbs wasn't convinced, so Tony added, "Look at me. I'm fine, aren't I?"

"You're damned fine," Gibbs said, giving in. He looked at Tony, with his tousled hair and reddened lips, his handsome body, so long and lean, so passionate and giving, and the mere sight of him aroused Gibbs anew. "Considering you swore, just a couple of hours ago that you were giving up sex…" he teased, leaving the rest unsaid. He chuckled and said, "Damned glad you didn't though."

Tony smiled a bit smugly, gave Gibbs a long kiss before releasing his face. "Who would have ever guessed we'd get along so well? You're the traditional silent type, the Shane, the protector, the good guy. And me, I might seem too young for you by some standards but I've been around and have had a little too much experience. I figure that sort of even out the scales. The thing is, when I'm with you it's like I'm brand new again. I only have to look at you and my heart stops, Jethro. It's like we were made for each other. Like peanut butter and jelly, Batman and Robin, guns and bullets. Like pieces of a puzzle. Don't you hate it when you've almost finished a jigsaw puzzle and you realize there's one missing piece?"

"Idiot," Gibbs insulted fondly. Overwhelmed by Tony's declaration, and feeling unaccountably warm all the way down to his toes, Gibbs wrapped his arms around his young lover. His head said this shouldn't work but his heart didn't agree.

With a sigh, Tony laid his head on Gibbs' broad chest and mumbled, "Love you too, Jethro," and soon fell asleep.

***

Gibbs awoke before dawn, warm and content, spooned up against Tony's backside with his face pressed to his neck. He took a deep breath, inhaling Tony's scent, realizing he was semi-erect and had been rubbing his dick against his lover's nicely shaped ass.

He groaned and rolled onto his back and thought about getting up. The coffee pot wasn't set to automatically turn on for another hour and he couldn’t wait that long for his first cup. He was addicted to caffeine - and to Tony - and it was unlikely he'd ever be able to live without either of them.

Today was not going to be easy. He had to make arrangements to get Tony on a flight or a bus back to Ohio before the day's end. Without any ID, which had been stolen when he was mugged a couple of days ago, it would be impossible to get him onto a commercial flight. Franks would pull some strings and get Tony on a military flight, if Gibbs made his request the right way. His boss was a straight-shooter and, for all his gruff exterior, tended to side with the underdogs and the oppressed of the world. Franks liked to say, "No matter how high up on the ladder you climb, there's always some jackass sittin' one rung up, and he's likely to step on your fingers if you don't watch out for yourself." Gibbs had seen Mike Franks bend the rules more often than not, but always for the greater good.

Although Tony wasn't an eyewitness to any of the Lookout Serial Killer murders he'd have to give a statement about any conversations he'd overheard between his father, Briggs and Sir, and once they'd located the suspect in the killings, Tony would be asked to confirm his identity. Because of the possibility of reprisals from Tony's father or his not-yet-named friend, Gibbs planned to have Tony's interview filed under an alias. They would have to come up with something better than Tony DiFonzzo though, because there was no way that Gibbs would place Tony at risk, not even to catch a killer.

They would also be dealing with DiNozzo Sr. face to face at some point. At the very least the man was guilty of endangering a minor - his own son - over many years, if not some form of pandering. In addition, DiNozzo Sr. had known about his friend's predilection for young military men, and had possibly helped him dump the murdered men's bodies. They had yet to prove any of this, but Gibbs was looking forward to taking the bastards down. Just thinking about these men taking advantage of those weaker and younger than themselves made Gibbs so angry that it brought a bitter taste to his mouth.

Gibbs turned his head to look at Tony, who was sleeping with his mouth slightly open. He had to talk to Tony about bringing sexual abuse charges against his father, but he knew it would be a hard sell. Even though Tony acknowledged what his father had done to him - whoring him out to further his business interests - the young man had also defended his father. Gibbs wanted to punish DiNozzo Sr. for everything he had done to his son over the years - hell, he wanted to kill the man, slowly, and would jump at the opportunity if it offered itself - but he wasn't convinced that it would be in Tony's best interest to arrest his father. Would getting a conviction against DiNozzo of accessory to murder be enough of a retribution for all the ways he'd abused his son over the years? It would certainly be a start.

A glance at the clock told Gibbs that Stan wouldn't be at the Yard yet. The younger agent would need a few hours to get into the investigation of Briggs and his boss. Meanwhile Gibbs planned to spend some time with his boat in the basement and have breakfast with Tony.

Tony made a small sound and then he whimpered and kicked in his sleep. When he made a louder noise, of fear or protest, Gibbs moved closer to the young man and gently drew him into his arms, soothing him with, "It's all right, Tony. I've got you. You're safe." Tony stilled and sighed and a moment later Gibbs realized the young man had awakened, so he smiled and said, "Morning."

"Mmm. Time's it?"

"Too early. Go back to sleep."

Tony uttered a sound of compliance and seemed to go to sleep but when Gibbs started to move away with the intention of rising, Tony turned with him and opened his eyes a crack. "Where're you goin'?"

"Coffee. Boat."

"Too early."

Gibbs smiled. "Then sleep."

Tony stretched his arms over his head and yawned, and the sheet fell away to expose the bite mark high on his shoulder that Gibbs had put there. It was a livid, red and purple bruise with each tooth mark clearly visible and Gibbs was ashamed that he'd been the one to put it there. Jesus, what had he been thinking? Obviously he hadn't been thinking; he'd allowed his lust take over his good sense.

Tony saw the look on Gibbs face and his eyes widened. His hand went to the bite and he twisted his head to get a look at it. "Wow," he said. "Someone was hungry."

Gibbs sent him a dark look and went into the bathroom. He heard Tony protesting from the bed, "C'mon, Jethro, it's not that bad," but he knew otherwise. He returned with a washcloth and some antiseptic cream, and sat on the bed to gently clean and medicate the wound. Tony's eyes were on him the entire time, worried and a little unsure. Gibbs couldn’t say any words that he wouldn’t choke upon.

"I guess I bring out the beast in you," Tony joked.

"Don’t say that," Gibbs replied with a glare. His eyes went to the bruise on Tony's temple and the discoloration on his throat he'd sustained during the mugging a couple of days ago, and his anger rose when he thought about everyone who had abused his boy. He ran a hand across his face as if he could wipe the anger away, but it didn't work.

"Hey…you pissed at me or something?"

"What? No. God, no." Gibbs taped a square of gauze over the bite, knowing he was doing so as much to keep it out of sight as to keep it clean.

Tony sat up and wrapped his arms around Gibbs, and when the older man protested and began to move away, knowing he didn't deserve it, Tony held him tight. "Don't do that. Please, Jethro. It's just a hickey." Gibbs threw him a look of disbelief so Tony amended, "Okay it's a really big hickey. Let's get past this, okay, so we can do something fun this morning. It's just you and me, right? No dead sailors, no redheaded special agents trying to get into my pants, no lady friends crashing our dinner party. No meltdowns and confessions of a teen-aged gigolo. Hey, that sounds like the title of a sleazy paperback," he said with a grin. "All I want is you. And me. And breakfast. I'm really hungry again."

Gibbs smiled despite his best efforts and he hugged Tony in return and next thing he knew they were laying on the bed and Tony had turned his naked back to him and was asking, "Can you finish what you started before I was properly awake? I've never had morning wood before. Well, of course _I've_ had it, and start every day with a stiffy, but I've never had my boyfriend make love to me first thing, so could you do it, please? Make love to me?"

So Gibbs did as he was asked and made sweet love to his boyfriend, as Tony had called him, kissing the back of his neck on top of the fading love-bite he'd given Tony when he'd fucked him yesterday in the truck at the deserted drive-in. He swore to himself he wouldn't sink his teeth into his beautiful boy's skin ever again. After squeezing Tony's well-shaped ass and then sliding his hand across his belly and down to cup and tease his balls, Gibbs took the time to prepare himself and then eased into Tony's hole with care.

Tony wiggled his ass and backed into Gibbs impatiently, his breathing coming faster. "C'mon, Jethro," he encouraged.

Gibbs slathered lube on his right hand and grasped Tony's cock, jacking it slowly at first and then faster, turned on immeasurably by the feeling of the smooth skin of Tony's shaved groin brushing against the heel of his hand on every down-sweep. Tony covered Gibbs' hand with his own, hitching a ride, following its rise and fall. Gibbs set up a rocking motion with his hips, back and forth, each time edging a little further into Tony's hot and receptive body, until he was fully seated. Short strokes alternated with longer ones, and Tony was murmuring encouraging words, a string of  "love it that's it just there right there oh God yeah it's good," babbling that Gibbs was beginning to find strangely endearing. He breathed into Tony's ear, "God, you're good, so hot, and your ass is mine and nobody is ever gonna touch you ever again except for me." He rubbed his thumb across the head Tony's dick, and murmured, "This dick is mine now…you're gonna come only for me. There's nobody else, you understand?"

Tony moaned and bit his bottom lip, nodding. "Yes…God yes…"

Gibbs changed his angle and his next thrust hit Tony's prostate and left the younger man panting and clutching Gibbs' hand, forcing him to squeeze his dick hard. He closed his eyes and concentrated on sensations and textures: hot, silken skin over muscle and bone, long legs with bony knees, and soft hair that touched his face when Tony arched his neck with a moan of ecstasy. And there was the heady smell of last night's sex emanating from their bodies and from the messy sheets they were lying on, and the aroma of sweat that came off both of them in waves. He heard the sound of his balls slapping against Tony's beautiful ass, and his boy's gasps and cries mingled with his own grunts of response. Muscles stretched and toes curled, and Tony reached back, desperate, his fingers digging into his thigh and Gibbs' balls drew up and his pulse quickened. His hand pumped Tony's cock in time to the uneven movement of his hips; they rocked as one, and he didn't know who came first but when the spasms hit and Tony ejaculated in pulsing hot streams into Gibbs' hand and across his own belly, it didn't really matter.

He clung to Tony, panting against his warm, sweaty back, sliding both hands higher, smearing Tony's come across his baby-smooth chest, sensitive to the hard metal of the nipple rings digging into his palms. Gibbs lowered his head so his cheek lay against Tony's shoulder, and squeezed his eyes shut to counter a rush of unwanted emotion that inundated him and made his throat constrict. For so long he'd clung to his loneliness and the need to remain solitary. He'd exacted penance, punished himself until it had become like a second skin. He'd been fighting it right from the start, he realized, but it had finally sunk in – this was so right, so true, and Tony was everything to him now.

Gibbs wondered if Tony's desire for pain was a kink he had acquired as part of his sexual experience with DiNozzo Sr.'s clients, or if he asked to be hurt because it was part of his true nature to enjoy, and to be turned on by, pain. It struck Gibbs that perhaps Tony expected pain as a form of punishment, or that he had a need to be disciplined for feeling pleasure while performing sexual acts he was forced to do. Either way, it was twisted. Tony understood that what his father was making him to do was wrong, even if he defended his father's actions, that much Gibbs was sure of, but did Tony feel he was to blame for his actions?

God, how could he convince Tony that he didn't deserve such treatment, that he was a victim and wasn't to be held accountable? It hurt Gibbs right to the core that Tony believed he needed to do penance for acts that weren't his fault. It was hard to breathe and impossible to think, so he wrapped his arms around Tony and pressed the length of his body against him in an effort to dam the flow of emotions. Gibbs tried damned hard, even though he knew he couldn’t win, and it slowly but surely overwhelmed him and he quaked in its aftermath.

Tony turned his head to look over his shoulder but was unable to see his lover who was holding him tight to his chest. "Jethro?" he asked, worried.

He couldn’t speak, but raised one hand to caress Tony's chest, rubbing his thumb across his collarbone, settling him with touches of reassurance, offering Tony his strength even though he didn't have any to spare. God, he had never expected to feel this again, hadn't wanted it, really, but he was helpless against its onslaught. He inhaled a long, rough breath and let it wash over him and through him until he accepted the feeling in his heart of deep and steadfast love.

***end chapter 18***


	19. Disclosure

Gibbs sanded the upturned hull of his boat in long steady sweeps that followed the grain. He'd needed this, the solitary pursuit that cleared his mind and replenished his batteries. With a smile he acknowledged that yesterday's and last night's _and_ this morning's sex had certainly dispelled much of his tension and currently he felt damned good. He heard Tony moving about upstairs, taking a shower, and then pulling their clean clothes out of the dryer in the laundry room off the kitchen - the dryer door hinge had a telltale squeak.

Soon after, Tony came down to the basement, running a hand through his hair. He smiled shyly when he caught Gibbs openly admiring him even though he was fully clothed, wearing the shirt and jeans he'd arrived in two days ago. They'd done so much in so short a time, but to Gibbs it felt as though he'd known Tony forever. Gibbs shook his head and wondered aloud, "Don't think I'll ever get tired of looking at you," making Tony grin anew. Tony drifted into his arms and they kissed with parted lips and gentle tongues, a confirmation of how close they'd become in the past couple of days.

Gibbs would have stayed down in the basement longer but Tony's hunger drove them up to the kitchen to find something to eat. Once Tony had finished making fun of Gibbs for only having high-grain wheat flake cereal in his cupboard, they settled on making pancakes and were soon seated across from each other at the table. Tony talked while he ate, asking Gibbs how long he'd lived in this house; did he prefer wine or beer; boxers or briefs - or nothing at all?

Gibbs's answers were to the point. "Lived here most of my adult life, except when I was in the service. I drink alcohol, period. The only thing that matters is that _you_ go commando when you're with me."

Tony smirked and pulled the waistband of his jeans down just enough to expose his red briefs with an unrepentant, "Sorry."

Gibbs asked Tony a question he'd been puzzling over since the previous day. "How is it that your old man keeps such a tight rein on you, but he let you go all the way to Ohio to college?" All signs of humor disappeared from Tony's face. He ran his tongue across his bottom lip and squirmed in his chair, poking with his fork at the remains of his pancake. Gibbs ate his last bites of pancake and waited patiently, knowing that Tony would eventually tell him the truth.

Avoiding Gibbs' steady gaze, Tony said quietly, "My coach at school said I should apply for some college sports scholarships, so I did, and there were some scouts looking at me. I forged my dad's signature on the applications 'cause I knew he'd object to me even trying. That way, if any of them didn't want me he'd never know I'd failed." He glanced up at Gibbs and said with a shrug, "No point in handing him any ammunition he could use against me, you know?"

"He had a college in mind?"

"Yeah, he mentioned Yale." Tony pulled a face of disdain.

"Close to home," Gibbs reasoned. And still under Daddy's control, he thought.

Tony nodded. "When I told him I'd been accepted at OSU and that I planned to go there, Dad got sort of…upset. Once he'd calmed down he said I could play ball at Yale just as well as at some corn-fed college. He was even willing to bankroll my education. My father's really good at bargaining but he didn't have anything I wanted."

Gibbs had learned that Tony's use of the word 'upset' meant his father had become angry, and probably heavy handed. It must have taken guts for Tony to stick to his guns when facing his father. Finally standing up for himself, and going to a college of his choice, signified a major turning point for Tony. Even so, he wondered what kind of ties still bound the young man to his father, and how strong they'd turn out to be when push came to shove.

Gibbs wasn't going to kid himself - Tony was young and going through a stage of self-awakening that was likely to include branching out in directions that might not lead towards Gibbs, and whatever he could offer. Gibbs figured he was lucky they'd had this time together – not that he was giving up on the idea of remaining close to the young man. No, he wasn't about to let Tony go, not easily, at any rate. "You went against your father and chose OSU," Gibbs said.

Tony smiled without much humor. "Yeah, I chose Ohio. My father didn't have any say in the matter."

Gibbs raised his eyebrows in question.

A little abashed, Tony admitted, "I sort of…uh…blackmailed him." He looked straight into Gibbs' eyes and said, "I found some leverage and I used it. People have always said I'm like my father but I never got it until that moment. Dad should have been proud of me, for once. After all, I was only following what he'd taught me."

"What the hell did you have on him, Tony?" Gibbs could imagine a teenaged Tony facing off with his father, brave and defiant, and surely getting smacked down for being rebellious. It was a dangerous game and Tony was lucky that he won; it couldn’t have been easy going up against an experienced hard-hitter like DiNozzo, Sr.

"I'd heard some things, picked up on some stuff," Tony said vaguely.

Gibbs glared and demanded, "What stuff?"

Tony sighed and took a moment before explaining, almost wearily, "I found out that my father double-crossed his business friend _and_ a client of his."

"Talk to me," said Gibbs, feeling the need to know details yet afraid of what he was about to hear.

For a minute it appeared that Tony wasn't going to open up but then he said, "There's this guy in New York, Alonzo Torres, and last year he was looking for a way to get US surplus weapons he'd somehow got hold of to his buddies down in Colombia. Heavy stuff like rocket launchers. Torres is close to Dad's friend, old neighborhood kind of buddies, and he said he'd put Torres in touch with someone who could help. He then told my father to make it happen."

Gibbs caught the way Tony said 'Dad's friend' and immediately knew who he was talking about. "And your father did like he was told to do?"

Tony nodded. "Always does." He played with his fork for a bit and then said, "My father knew someone who knew someone else in shipping, and so he connected the dots. It was the usual stuff: greasing palms, putting a deal together - that kinda thing. It's what my father does. But after it was all taken care of, some Peruvian guy turns up in New York and waves a fat wad of cash under Dad's nose. Next thing you know the ship carrying the weapons is pirated twenty miles out of Cartagena and a week later the guns are in the hands of a government-sponsored militia group in Peru. _You_ connect the dots." He shook his head. "Stupid. Greedy. If my father was ever suspected…if there was even the _slightest_ hint that he'd had anything to do with those guns ending up in the wrong hands, Torres would put out a hit on him. Hell, he'd probably take Dad out himself, if Dad's best friend didn't get to him first."

Gibbs had a feeling that Sir would make a far worse enemy that Torres. "You know this Torres?" The name sounded familiar to Gibbs but mob dealings in New York weren't his territory. More likely the man and his affiliates were a pet project of the FBI, with hours and hours spent on stakeout watching targets who know damned well they're being watched – long-term cat and mouse games that get you nowhere. Gibbs preferred straightforward investigations, questioning witnesses, interrogating suspects, getting results.

At first Tony hesitated and then he said, "I dated Torres' daughter a couple of times in high school." He said dismissively, "She was okay but her dad was like a terrier, snapping at everyone and pissing on his territory. When I broke up with her I set her up with the quarterback as consolation," he said with a smile of accomplishment. "I think she liked him a lot better than me anyhow."

Gibbs couldn’t imagine anyone choosing someone else over Tony, but in retrospect he was glad. "And you told your father you knew about the deal with the Peruvian," Gibbs said disapprovingly.

Tony crossed his arms over his chest. "Well, not exactly. All I did was tell him that if I couldn’t play ball at the college of my choice then I'd be happy to study business - at the university in Lima." One of Tony's hands went to his cheek in what appeared to be an unconscious gesture, and then it dropped away and he sat still, eyes glazed over at the memory.

Gibbs reached out across the kitchen table and gently laid his palm against Tony's cheek, stroking his thumb across his cheekbone. "You shouldn't play with fire, Tony," Gibbs warned.

Tony leaned into Gibbs' hand and closed his eyes for a moment. "You know I don't mind a little burn, Jethro."

"Well I do mind. You push the wrong people and you're gonna get hurt." Gibbs didn't say 'or dead' but that's what he was thinking. He retracted his hand and concentrated on drinking his coffee, wondering what other dirty deals DiNozzo, Sr., and his best friend were into. He really didn't like Tony being connected, in any way, to his father, especially if DiNozzo, Sr., was dealing with such dangerous men. It was time to make sure that Tony's link to his father was permanently severed.

"Look at the bright side." A smile of satisfaction spread across Tony's features. "Now I'm at OSU and I'm having the time of my life. I've got my sports, keg parties with my frat brothers, and I've got lots of girlfriends," he said teasingly.

With a dark look, Gibbs asked, "Your father's paying for all this partying?"

"Some of it." Tony raised his chin when he said, "Dad still expects me to work for him in New York but I'm not going back home at the end of the semester. I have a scholarship but I'm getting a summer job lined up out in Ohio. I can make it work. Dad's going to have a fit, and he'll threaten to cut me off as a way of keeping me on a short leash." Despite his dire predictions, Tony smiled happily. "But you know what? I don't give a shit. I can come up with my own funding. I am _so_ ready to be out on my own."

"Your money gonna come from that account you have in the Caymans?" Tony nodded in response and Gibbs wondered exactly how much money Tony had salted away. It didn't matter though because he had a feeling Tony was going to survive just fine without his father's help – once he got out from under the old man's thumb. Gibbs was worried though, knowing that Senior wouldn’t let go of his son easily, if at all. Then Gibbs wondered, once again, if _he_ would have any place in Tony's future, in his life, especially with this newfound independence Tony was planning on enjoying. He wanted to keep Tony with him, but that was being plain selfish. The kid needed to be at college, enjoying himself with his buddies, doing normal things with regular people. Gibbs tried really hard not to think about the parties and the girls, but the tightness in his chest stemmed from outright jealousy.

"When I play a part in getting a client to sign on the dotted line," Tony explained, "I get paid a percentage of Dad's fees from brokering a deal. I earn that money and bank most of it. I like to have a backup plan. I figured I'd be striking out on my own someday, right? I mean, I keep hoping there's someone out there who sees more in me than just being Daddy's blowjob-boy, like maybe the scouts for the NFL." Tony suddenly stood, picked up the dirty dishes from the table and placed them in the sink. He stayed there, arms braced against the edge of the countertop, and stared out the window. "I don't want to spend my last hours with you talking about this, okay?"

Gibbs was behind Tony in a second, arms wrapped around his waist. Speaking softly into Tony's ear, he made every word count. "You are so much more than what your father made you do, Tony." He kissed the side of Tony's neck and was gratified by the way the young man leaned back into him. "You are good in the ways that count. You're kind and have a good heart, and you're smart, too. You're strong and resilient. You're going to be a fine man who'd make…" Gibbs was going to say that Tony would make any father proud, but Senior's pride in his son was based upon his ability to close a deal for him, and that wasn't at all what Gibbs meant. "You'll be a success no matter what you do," he said firmly, meaning every word of it.

Tony held onto Gibbs' arms, pulling them tightly to his waist. "You forgot to say 'handsome.'"

Gibbs kissed Tony just behind his ear and whispered, "Handsome."

"Talented?"

Gibbs ran his tongue up Tony's neck and sucked on his earlobe, then said in a low, sultry voice, "Extremely talented." He felt Tony's body shake with laughter and Gibbs thrust his hips against Tony's ass, murmuring, "But then, so am I."

Tony's hand cupped his own jeans-covered genitals and moaned. "You make me so hard." He panted and said breathily, "God, if I come in my pants I'm going to be really pissed, Jethro."

"Then take them off," Gibbs growled, hands reaching down to Tony's zipper, helping him remove his pants as fast as he could. They were undone and pushed to Tony's knees, along with his red briefs; then they were off and kicked aside along with his sneakers. Gibbs ran his hand along the underside of Tony's hardening cock and back down to caress and fondle his balls. Tony reacted with a little quiver of anticipation and rubbed his naked ass against Gibbs' jeans, causing Gibbs's cock strain against its confines.

While Gibbs played with Tony's balls his free hand roamed under his shirt, skimming across Tony's trembling belly and smooth, hairless chest until he encountered the metal of a nipple ring. Gibbs tugged once and then again, harder, and Tony let out a high-pitched whine, his head going back, exposing his throat, and Gibbs tugged again and twisted it and Tony sobbed and shook and then his knees weakened and he clung to the edge of the counter. Gibbs quickly released the ring, wrapped his arms around his lover's sagging body until he had recovered, and then kissed the bare skin that was exposed above his shirt. Gibbs moaned and told Tony how good he was. "So hot, so much more than I'd ever expected." He kissed and sucked lightly along his neck and jaw, and behind his ear, interspersing each kiss with praise. "Good…beautiful…mmm…loving…sexy…you're everything.

He fondled Tony's naked ass, squeezing the taut muscles, and delivered a resounding slap that was hard enough to make Tony jerk with surprise. Gibbs stripped off his own shirt, reached into the cupboard and hastily grabbed a condom and lube. As soon as he'd slicked up his hand Gibbs slid two fingers into Tony's hole and back out again, curling them just so before plunging in again, eliciting a gasp and a whimper from his lover.

Tony turned his head, a rosy flush spread across his cheeks, and his lips parted, requesting a kiss. Their mouths met and Gibbs let his tongue simulate the in-and-out action of his fingers. His mind fogged up as his own need blossomed, so much so that he was barely able to undo his own jeans and push them down with one hand; luckily they were loose fitting. Finally Gibbs was free of his pants and he broke the kiss so he could lubricate his cock.

Tony let go of the counter long enough to strip off his shirt and then he braced himself once again, naked, breathing fast and closing his eyes, yielding to Gibbs's gentle finger-fucking with a shaky groan. Gibbs took a moment to kiss Tony's shoulders and neck, avoiding the gauze-covered bite that he'd inflicted upon Tony last night. Pressing his hand against his back, Gibbs urged Tony to lean over the counter and slowly worked him with three and then, after a while, four fingers, while he rolled his hips and rubbed his hard, leaking cock against Tony's ass. Gibbs closed his eyes while sliding his fingers in and out of Tony's hole, his lover's heavy breathing and escalating stream of moans causing his toes to curl with desire.

"Oh…oh…I want…want…need," Tony panted, no longer able to utter a complete sentence.

"Jack yourself," Gibbs ordered, holding Tony's hip in a firm grip, wishing he had more hands. "Squeeze your fat cock, slide your hand up and down, pressure on the vein. That's right, now twist and rub your thumb across the head. You're wet, slick yourself up and down the shaft, faster, tell me it's good." Tony groaned, his mouth trembling, and Gibbs grinned. "That's my boy. I want to hear you say my name when you come," he demanded, gently kicking Tony's legs further apart.

Tony pumped his cock, responding loudly, "It's good…good…not…not yet…almost…" Gibbs rotated his hand a little and Tony groaned and shuddered, begging, "Oh God! More, more, please…"

Gibbs added a lot more lubricant to his hand before he folded his thumb into his palm and started to slowly introduce it into Tony's tight, hot passage, offering a litany of soft, soothing noises that were as much for himself as for his lover. He'd never done this before and he wasn't sure how far he could go, how much Tony could take, or even if he should push him to the limit. He could feel Tony's muscles rippling, reacting to his slightest movement - a brush of a knuckle, a caress of a fingertip against his prostate - accepting and trusting him implicitly. Tony's breathing became harsh and he started to keen, an animalistic elongated cry expelled with every breath.

At the moment that Gibbs decided that it had gone too far, Tony came, quaking, his muscles contracting, shouting "Jethro!" so loud that Gibbs could see, through the kitchen window, the birds on the lawn take off in flight. Gibbs' rhythm grew erratic and his hips jerked and his cock ground against Tony's ass, aching for release. There was pounding and ringing in Gibbs' ears but it wasn't until long after he shot his load across Tony's rear, and carefully withdrew his hand, that he realized that what he'd heard was his cell phone ringing.

The phone, sitting in its charger on the counter, beeped once after the caller left a message, and then the only sound in the kitchen was the heavy breathing of its two occupants and the gentle ticking of the clock on the wall.

***

Tony was still bent over the kitchen counter, recovering. Every time he panted it came out in a breathy moan. Gibbs kept one of his hands on his lover's sweaty back, gently stroking him, making sure he was all right. "You okay there, cowboy?"

"Uh-huh." Tony nodded with a crooked smile but was apparently unable to form any words.

In the few minutes it took Gibbs to catch his breath and regain his own equilibrium, he cleaned off his hand and wiped his spunk and slick lube off Tony's back and ass with a kitchen towel. Tony slowly straightened up with a small groan and let Gibbs wipe off his belly. He turned into Gibbs' embrace and they stood there for a while, leaning against the kitchen counter for support. Tony's cheek rested on Gibbs' shoulder, his head turned away. "Tony?" Gibbs kissed Tony's head and waited for a response.

Eventually Tony pulled back to meet Gibbs' eyes. "I've never…," he said quietly.

With a slightly uncomfortable laugh, Gibbs replied, "Neither have I."

Tony smiled tiredly. "That's good. I like that - that we can do new things together. Makes it special, all ours, you know?"

"You sure you're okay?"

Tony's smile widened. "I'm great. Gonna be sore for a while."

"I never want to hurt you, Tony. If you don't want to do something, you only have to say the word and–"

But Tony shook his head. "No, no, I'm good. Better than good." Gibbs sent him a stern look so Tony acquiesced and said, "I'll tell you if you ever hurt me. Promise."

"We'd better get cleaned up and dressed again." Gibbs looked down at their feet and laughed. "We've still got our socks on," he pointed out.

They parted and Tony scooped up his clothes; Gibbs grabbed his jeans and shirt. "Hit the showers," Gibbs said but as he turned to leave the kitchen he noticed the voicemail light blinking in his cell phone. He picked it up and pressed the button to recall the message, having a feeling it was Franks. He was right; there was a curt message from his boss telling him to call back immediately.

It was with reluctance that Gibbs placed the call to Franks, sure that work was about to interfere with his and Tony's plans. He'd hoped to have a couple of hours with Tony before heading into the Yard. "Yeah, Boss?"

"Probie, get your ass down here right now," ordered Special Agent Franks.

Gibbs immediately knew that something bad was going down. "We got a body?"

"Just get to the Yard. And bring the kid, DiNozzo with you."

There was a click and the connection was severed. It took all of two seconds before the realization hit Gibbs: his boss had called Tony by his real name. Shit, he knew!

Tony, absently scratching his belly, looked at him with concern. He slid a hand up Gibbs' bare back. "Everything okay, Jethro?"

His mind going a mile a minute, even as he stared at the cell phone in his hand, Gibbs said, "No. I mean yeah." He said tautly, "We have to go in to work." He vaguely heard Tony questioning why Gibbs had been called in on a Sunday, and asking something else, but all Gibbs could hear was his own heart pounding away. Shit, what did Franks know? That Tony DiFonzzo was an alias, that Gibbs had been lying to him, that he was sleeping with the young man? All of the above? He was in such deep shit. Gibbs took a deep breath and said, in surprisingly calm voice, "Grab a quick shower. We've got ten minutes. Go."

Eleven minutes later they were both showered and dressed, once again, and in the pickup, driving to the Navy Yard. Tony kept sending concerned glances his way, but Gibbs remained silent, busy with his thoughts, none of which he planned to voice aloud.

*** end chapter 19***


	20. Interrogation

It only took one brief glance to see that Special Agent Mike Franks was barely holding his temper in check. When he pointed to a desk in the far corner of the bullpen behind Agent Jenny Shepard, and barked at Tony, "Sit your ass over there," the young man complied immediately and without question.

Tony sent a worried look Gibbs' way, but all Gibbs could offer Tony was a nod to promise that everything would be okay. Of course Tony wasn't about to buy into that load of crap. Even if the young man didn't have a clue what was going on, it would take a fool not to see that something serious was going down.

Both Jenny and Stan, working at their desks, eyed Tony curiously as he took a seat, and then looked to Gibbs for answers. When they saw they weren't about to get anything out of Gibbs, and that Franks was being particularly surly, they ducked their heads and went back to work. As Gibbs passed by Jenny's desk he caught a glimpse of their new phone trace running on her computer, but he didn't have the time to find out if she was working on the serial killer case or something else altogether.

"Probie, you're with me," ordered Franks as he grabbed a big pile of folders off his desk. He marched into a nearby conference room with Gibbs on his heels, and closed the door firmly behind them. "Sit," he ordered. Gibbs did as he was told even though his instinct was to stand and face his boss.

Franks remained standing and dumped the folders on the large table between them. He glowered at Gibbs and said in a low, barely controlled voice, "I am not gonna ask what the fuck is goin' on in that brain of yours, Gunny, 'cause it's plain to see that you're bein' led around by your dick, and that the pretty boy out there is the one who's got a tight leash on you."

Gibbs stiffened and started to protest, but his boss held both hands up, palms out. "First of all, I don't give a flyin' fuck what you do, or who you do it to, so long as it don't affect the job. But that kid – that _Tony_ _DiNozzo_ _with two Zs_ – who you've been haulin' around all weekend, is apparently linked to an FBI investigation."

Schooling his expression, Gibbs waited for the rest of his boss's speech, which he knew was coming right up.

Seeing he had Gibbs' full attention, Franks braced his arms on the conference table. "You wanna know what really sticks in my craw, Probie? It ain't so much that you've been makin' sheet music with that college kid, or that you brought him along to one of my crime scenes, and into this office. No, what makes me so angry that I'm about to bust a gut is that I have to learn what's going on from Agent Fornell over at the FBI. It turns out that you've been babysitting the son of Anthony DiNozzo, Sr., who they're investigating as part of their takedown of Alonzo Torres. He's a New York mob boss for chrissake!" Franks demanded angrily, "The kid's father is the same DiNozzo you questioned about our missing Navy boy? You got something you wanna tell me Probie?"

Before Gibbs could respond to his furious boss, Franks raised his hands and cautioned, "And before you open your mouth, think very carefully about what you're gonna say, 'cause you're skatin' on mighty thin ice right now."

For starters, Gibbs decided to take Franks at his word when he said he didn't care what he was doing between the sheets with Tony. Fine by him; he wouldn't address the matter at all. He wouldn't know how to begin to defend himself, anyway. How could he explain what was going on between him and Tony?

_Oh yeah, by the way Boss, I can't seem to get enough of this kid I rescued from jail, brought home like a stray, and have been fucking just about non-stop for the past couple of days. And if he's willing to put up with me, I plan to make room for him in my home, and in my life – and I hope he cares enough to stay for a good long while._

Gibbs put his thoughts of Tony aside and concentrated on a more immediate concern; an FBI agent may have observed him and Tony together, and may have figured out they'd spent all weekend fucking. _Oh shit…_ After a brief moment of near panic, Gibbs assured himself that it was unlikely that they had been under surveillance – he was positive that he would have known if anyone had been watching them. The FBI may have surveillance on Tony's father but would they be tracking Tony's movements? No, there was no reason for them to do that. Gibbs cleared his throat and asked calmly, "Are you saying the FBI knows that Tony's been with me? They told you this?"

Franks let out a huff of a breath that might have been a laugh, or a sound of disgust; with Franks it was sometimes hard to tell. "You would be in deep shit, Probie, if they had a clue about what you've been up to the last coupla days. But no, you're lucky this time. I'm the only one who knows. The FBI has been gathering intel on DiNozzo Sr. for a while and," Franks said as he tapped a folder bulging with photos, "they sent over some surveillance photos to see if we could ID some of the men in them. Director Morrow and the FBI have agreed to a joint investigation, which you and I both know is a load of shit and means the Fibbers are trying to get their hands on our intel." He shrugged. "As far as you and Junior go, well, I put two and two together. Face it, you were off your game during the investigation out at Lance Corporal Parrish's place yesterday. I saw the way you looked at Jenny like you were gonna kill her for getting too close to your boy, Gunny."

Gibbs was relieved that if anyone had to find out about him and Tony, at least it was Mike Franks; their secret would be safe with him. On the other hand, this was a wake-up call because if the wrong people found out that Gibbs batted for both sides it could be dangerous on the job, and would very likely signal the end of his budding career as a federal agent. Gibbs was determined to be more cautious about how he acted around Tony in the future.

He had wondered, fleetingly, if Joan had called Franks and reported to him that she'd caught her almost-fiancée with a young man. She may not have witnessed them doing anything wrong but Joan had obviously figured out that something was going on between Gibbs and Tony. Of course seeing Tony half-naked and looking for his mislaid nipple ring in Gibbs' kitchen had made it pretty obvious he wasn't any ordinary houseguest. Gibbs wouldn't have thought that Joan would spread gossip, but then…a woman scorned. He was glad he was right about her keeping her mouth closed, because despite the fact that their relationship hadn't worked out in the end, he wished her nothing but the best. On the other hand, she'd only found out last night.

His boss didn't seem at all disturbed at the knowledge that Gibbs was involved with Tony. Franks was generally open-minded about all things sexual, but even so, it couldn’t be easy finding out that a man you thought you knew pretty damned well was bisexual or gay. Gibbs didn't want to think he was being a hypocrite, but if he'd been told that his boss was doing the horizontal mambo with another guy he'd probably have freaked out a bit. Gibbs asked, "You had a gut feeling Tony wasn't who he said he was, Boss?"

"You could say that, Probie. Of course seein' this photo also helped," Franks said with a crooked grin. He tossed an 8x10 photograph in front of Gibbs. It was a pretty clear shot of DiNozzo Sr. stepping out of his Gulfstream jet, as if he owned the world. Right behind him, dressed in a light gray suit with a white shirt open halfway down his chest, was the unmistakable figure of Tony. Gibbs turned the photo over and read the login notes an FBI agent had written by hand, identifying Tony and his father by name, as well as the date and location. "Las Vegas, last October," Gibbs said aloud.

"Took me longer than I'd like to admit before the penny dropped and I realized that was Tony _DiFonzzo_ ," Franks said wryly. Back to business, he pulled another photo out of the top folder and placed it on the table. It showed two good-looking, well-dressed men in their late fifties, strolling out of what appeared to be an upscale restaurant in New York City. "This gentleman is Senator Kingston Harding, who the FBI is keeping tabs on. They seem to be moving with great caution where he's concerned. Kid gloves," Franks scoffed.

Gibbs realized he'd met Senator Harding soon after joining NCIS. He'd been in the Pentagon gathering information for a case and he'd talked briefly with the man. "I ran into him on a case," Gibbs said under his breath. The case was less memorable than the senator, who had emitted the kind of outgoing, alpha personality that successful men usually radiated. "He was confident. Good handshake. Looked you in the eye." They'd briefly talked about Desert Storm, he recalled. The man had been pleasant but not so impressive that Gibbs had given him much more thought.

In the photo, Senator Harding's arm was slung around his friend's shoulders and they were both smiling as if they didn't have a care in the world. "The other man, the one with the impressive dental work is–"

The last time Gibbs had seen that toothy smile it was plastered on the face of Anthony DiNozzo Sr. on a hot summer day at his Long Island estate. "That's DiNozzo Sr.," Gibbs acknowledged, not bothering to conceal his distaste for the man.

Franks nodded. "DiNozzo with two Zs," he said pointedly. "I can see where his son looks a bit like him. You interviewed Senior for the Seaman Jacobs case, but you didn't like him for any of the disappearances or murders?"

Gibbs shook his head. He'd gone over this with Franks at the time, sure that although DiNozzo Sr. was hiding something, he wasn't their killer. "We don't have anything on DiNozzo," he pointed out. "Unless we can bust him for being an asshole. There was evidence of some shady business deals but he's good at covering his tracks – uses offshore banks, shell companies, front men. If we want to dig any further into his finances we'll need warrants and a forensic accountant." Or they could leave him to the FBI; DiNozzo had his hands in so many pies the FBI could take him down for anything from his mob connections to business fraud. "Is the FBI using DiNozzo to get to Torres?"

Franks said, "Our FBI contact, Agent Fornell, says the Bureau has been keeping half an eye on DiNozzo for years but Alonzo Torres is their primary target. Looks like DiNozzo's been spreading his wings outside the New York area lately. He keeps a suite at the Excelsior Grand here in DC, flies his buddies around in his private jet, spends the big bucks, and rubs shoulders with heavyweights in politics all over the country as well as up on the Hill. The FBI has intel he's real close to Senator Harding and they don't seem to like it too much. Harding and DiNozzo know each other from way back. They went to college together, were frat brothers and all that buddy shit," Franks growled.

Gibbs's head shot up. "Senator Harding is DiNozzo's frat brother?" Could Harding be the man Tony overheard quarreling with his father a couple of weeks ago, the mysterious 'Sir'? Was he the one who for whom Briggs had procured the young sailor, Seaman Jacobs?

What was it that Tony had said? _"They belong to the same frat, Sigma Chi. I saw his ring. It's like Dad's, with a white cross. I don't know exactly what he does now but he used to be in the military."_

Gibbs had a close look at the photo and could just make out that a ring on Harding's right hand had a distinctive cross on it. "Sigma Chi," he said under his breath. "Yale?" Could this be the man who had brutally raped a fourteen-year-old Tony with his father's tacit permission? He'd have to show Tony the photo and get him to ID the man, get him to verify this was Sir. Gibbs didn't look forward to doing that – God knows what Tony's reaction might be – but it would be better coming from him than some investigator he didn't know.

Franks gave Gibbs a quizzical look and said, "Yeah, Yale graduate. Originally from Riverhead, Long Island. Spends summers in the Hamptons, and has a house in DC for when the Senate's in session."

Gibbs stared at the photo, trying to see the evil he knew lurked in the man, seeking some kind of sign or explanation – but there was nothing obvious to be found that screamed 'kidnapper, rapist and murderer.' Even so, he wanted to kill the man with his bare hands for what he'd done to Tony and to countless other young men over the years. Gibbs could hear Tony's stumbling words as he remembered the decorated war hero who had seemed so nice on the surface. _"You think you're being paranoid because he's a grown-up and everyone says he's a nice man and you shouldn't h-hate him for no good reason…"_

"Military experience?" Gibbs asked in a low voice.

"Navy, saw some combat, retired early and went into politics."

"He have an assistant by the name of Briggs?"

Franks skimmed through some papers and looked up at Gibbs, surprised. "Steven J. Briggs."

"What does the FBI want with the senator? What's their end game?"

"The FBI wants Senator Harding if he's corrupt, and Agent Fornell is after Alonzo Torres in particular. They're interconnected, and they're hoping to bring down both of them at the same time, with a dose of DiNozzo Sr. thrown in for good measure."

"Sounds ambitious," Gibbs said, unimpressed. "Do we know what they've got on Harding?"

"Fornell says the FBI is out to prove that Senator Harding and DiNozzo are involved in economic espionage and possibly treason. It says here," Franks said, referring to the file in his hand, "that they've been establishing business relationships between foreign companies and U.S. industries, gathering economic intelligence and trade secrets, and selling them abroad. Basically doing anything they can to line their own pockets without any allegiance to their own country. They may be involved in selling or transporting weapons to our enemies."

"So Senator Harding acquires inside information and DiNozzo puts their plans in action, with mob backing as needed. And Harding keeps his hands clean," Gibbs said sourly. The senator probably thought he was beyond the reach of the law. Well, it appeared that Harding, and DiNozzo, had been getting away with crimes for years now and naturally expected their free rein to continue unchecked for as long as they liked.

The thing was, these men hadn't met NCIS Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs yet, and Gibbs planned to do everything in his power to bring these men to justice. The FBI could have their mob boss, but these two men belonged to Gibbs; they were about to have the rug pulled out from under them and powerful men tended to fall hard.

"Yeah, they've been getting away with crap for a long time, and it's up to us to take them down," agreed Franks. "It looks like they've made a bundle in the past few years selling insider information to foreign companies and governments. The FBI can't pin anything on Harding's ass, and they won't move unless they have an airtight case against him. They can't risk pulling him in if the charges won't stick. Look, this espionage case is the FBI's business and we have more than enough crap in our own backyard to take care of without taking on any of theirs. But you wouldn’t have interviewed DiNozzo, Sr. again a couple of weeks ago if you hadn't suspected him of having some part in the disappearance of those young sailors, Gibbs, and that _is_ our business." Franks slammed the flat of his hand on the table and the files and photos jumped. "Go get me some evidence so we can stop the killings, damn it!"

Gibbs knew it was time to disclose everything to Franks – about the freighter that was hijacked and his suspicion that Harding was their serial killer. "There's more, Boss. Tony told me that his father put together a business deal for his good friend, who goes by the name of 'Sir', to ship weapons to Colombia for Alonzo Torres. DiNozzo double-crossed Torres, as well as his own friend, by selling the itinerary of the freighter to a member of the opposition who approached him. The ship was hijacked and some heavy weaponry ended up in the hands of Peruvian guerillas. Tony didn't know the real name of his father's buddy, but I'm going to go out on a limb here and say it's likely to be Senator Kingston Harding."

Franks' reaction was to run a hand over his mouth and say, "DiNozzo's either ballsy, a complete idiot, or has a death wish. If anyone finds out what he did…the mob don’t take kindly to one of their own turning on them."

"Considering everything he's done, I would say that DiNozzo isn't loyal to anyone." Gibbs reported to his boss what he knew of DiNozzo Sr. "His affiliation with any of the New York crime families is tenuous. He deals with them but he doesn't answer to them." Like his boss, Gibbs had no doubt that Torres would to put out a hit on DiNozzo if – when – he discovered that DiNozzo had sold out.

Gibbs said, "I need coffee." He didn't wait for Franks' approval but Gibbs did hesitate at the door. "You want any?"

"Sure, just don't bring me back any of that weak crap from the break room. Don't take too long checking on your boy," Franks added, with a poorly concealed grin.

Gibbs strode past the bullpen and signaled to Tony to join him. Tony started to ask him questions, but Gibbs silenced him with a curt, "Not now." He led Tony down a long hallway to a small break room that the older agents used, where he knew he'd be able to get a cup of the strong coffee that he sorely needed. Tony kept silent but watched Gibbs with a slightly fearful expression. "Get yourself a soda," Gibbs said, indicating a small fridge. He prepped two large cups of coffee, one for him and another for Franks, and then led Tony along the hall and into in a small, empty office. "We only have a few minutes, Tony," he warned.

He stood there with a cup of hot coffee in each hand, and looked his boy up and down. On the surface, Tony seemed to be relaxed, but it only took a glance into the young man's eyes to see there was considerable inner turmoil going on. Gibbs placed his coffee cups on the desk, gently took the soda can out of Tony's unresisting fingers, and closed the door. It only took the word, "Come," and Tony was in his arms. Their mouths met in a deep kiss. Within a few seconds Gibbs broke it off. There couldn't be any evidence they'd been kissing or there'd be hell to pay.

"Jethro?"

He held Tony's face in his gentle hands, and smiled at him. "It's okay. It'll be fine."

Tony searched his face for the truth, and didn't seem convinced. "Agent Franks knows who I really am, who my father is. Jenny's tracking Dad's cell phone – I saw her doing it. I can't let you get into any trouble because of me. Tell them it's my fault, that I lied to you, that–"

"Hey, hey! Slow down there." Gibbs pulled Tony to his chest and hugged him tight. "Franks knows but he's okay with it. Not holding it against me, or you. We're fine," he assured Tony as he stroked his hair. "I just needed to make sure you're all right. Needed to touch you."

Tony raised his head from Gibbs' shoulder and smiled. "You can touch me any time you like, Jethro."

"What I'd really like to do is…well, we don't have enough time for what I want. But soon," Gibbs said, not really sure what was going to go down or if he'd get the chance to be in private with Tony again. "I need to get back to work."

Tony protested and wouldn’t remove his arms from around Gibbs' waist. "I don't want…" Then he must have seen the determined look on Gibbs' face because he released him and stepped back a pace. "Don't let them pin anything on you," Tony insisted. "I can take the heat, Jethro, if it comes down to that."

Gibbs smiled at the way Tony was almost eager to throw himself on the sword for him. "Nobody's going to pin anything on me. This shouldn't take too much longer and then we can grab a bite to eat, okay? Meanwhile I want you to go back to the bullpen and type up a statement about what you overheard: the sailor boy, the freighter, anything else you can think of. Don't leave anything out; you never know what details might be of importance later on."

"Except I don't tell about us," Tony said.

"Leave us out of it. Don't lie though, Tony."

"Selective truth," Tony said with a crooked smile. "The first rule is don't talk about Tony and Jethro."

Gibbs gave him a kiss on the temple, wishing it could be so much more. "I hate to think what the second rule is. C'mon." They picked up their drinks and left the small office. Gibbs walked Tony to the bullpen and asked Jenny to set Tony up at a computer so he could write a statement. He ignored her curious look and headed for the conference room to finish up with Mike Franks.

***end chapter 20***


	21. Conference

When Gibbs returned to the conference room he let his boss know that he had instructed Tony to write down everything he knew. Gibbs then took a few minutes to review the case files the FBI had provided while he sipped his hot coffee. At a glance the files appeared to be relatively thorough, but knowing the FBI and the way they operated, it was likely they hadn't released the really valuable information to NCIS. That was okay by Gibbs because he knew that NCIS agents stationed in South America had intel that the FBI didn't have access to. It was the way they all worked; it was like holding one ingredient back when you gave Grandma's secret cookie recipe to your nosy neighbor. At least that's what his wife had done, he thought with a smirk.

Franks warmed his hands on his coffee mug and leaned back in his chair to study Gibbs. He waited for Gibbs to look up before asking, "What made Tony Jr. get so chatty with you about his father's business affairs, Probie?"

"He needed someone to talk to," Gibbs said with a shrug. "I was handy." It was a lot more than that, of course. Tony trusted Gibbs to do the right thing with the information he gave him – to get a little justice, or maybe even to exact some revenge. God knows the kid had been used enough by his father and other men over the years. It was amazing Tony trusted him at all, Gibbs thought, but was thankful that he could be there for the young man. He wondered what their relationship would be like if it hadn't started out with the sexual aspect taking precedence.

"You were handy, huh?" Franks chuckled at Gibbs' understated words. "What are you, a Big Brother all of a sudden? Seems like there's a sight more to it than that boy wanting to bend someone's ear. Oh, I know he's all bright smiles and friendly chatter, but it's a shitload of fancy stuff meant to distract. I'd have thought his yakking would drive you crazy, Gunny."

Gibbs smiled and admitted, "Yeah, well, I've learned to tune some of it out. But he's a good kid, has a lot of potential. Needs some guidance though."

"And you're aiming to take him under your wing, is that it?"

Gibbs didn't answer right away. He couldn’t betray Tony's trust by revealing all of his troubles to Franks, even though his boss seemed to understand that the young man was coming from a bad place. He said cautiously, "Tony has a lot of hurdles ahead. I'd like to be the one to guide him if he'll accept my help."

Franks looked into the depths of his coffee mug as if it held some answers. "His old man's a piece of work, is he?"

"Oh yeah." There was no doubt in Gibbs' mind that DiNozzo Sr. was going to get nasty once he figured out that his son was breaking away from him. Gibbs was looking forward to confronting the man and hoped he'd be the one to take Senior down.

"So you up and talked to Junior about our investigation, is that it?" Franks did not look too happy.

"No, Boss. Tony asked me if we'd found Seaman Jacobs yet, and I told him we were still investigating. He was upset to hear there'd been more missing men." When his boss looked at him expectantly for the rest of the story, Gibbs explained, "Tony informed me he'd overheard a conversation between his father and two associates, which led me to believe that one of those men might be the Lookout serial killer. Tony says that DiNozzo Sr. quarreled with his friend about the delivery and disposal of a 'sailor boy' and his dad was sorta agitated because I kept coming back, asking difficult questions."

"Agitated? Yeah, you do that to some people, Probie."

Gibbs decided to leave out the reason Tony had phoned him a couple of nights ago – that Tony had been mugged, far from college, and had called on Gibbs to rescue him. "I gave Stan everything I had last night, Boss, and he's been working on it. I haven't had a chance yet to find out what he's uncovered."

"Oh yeah, I know all about what Agent Burley's looking into." Franks' raised his voice when he said sharply, "Unlike my senior field agent, who I come to find out has been leading a secret life, my other agents keep me in the loop. You _were_ gonna tell me about the new information about this investigation at some point, weren't you, Lee-roy?"

Shit, Franks must be pretty pissed if he was calling him by his first name. Gibbs said stiffly, "I was waiting for something solid before laying any findings in front of you, Boss." He didn't like the insinuation that he would do anything behind Franks' back, at least not as far as a case was concerned. Franks knew his agents often pursued leads on their own and only brought them to his attention if they led anywhere. Franks liked the facts laid out before him, nice and neat. "Wouldn't want to waste your time, sir."

"Huh," Franks said, his tone easing up a bit. "So, you've been dragging this college kid around with you all weekend by way of keeping him in protective custody? He's a witness?" He squinted at Gibbs as if daring him to deny what was a valid excuse for his agent's actions.

Gibbs considered Mike Franks to be a friend as well as his boss and mentor, and it was obvious that Franks was offering him a way out. "Yeah, he's a witness," Gibbs said. "But only to conversations between his father, that man Briggs and his boss. I'm pretty sure the boss is Senator Harding. Tony never saw anything go down, and never met any of the missing men except for Seaman Jacobs – and that was briefly at his father's party in Manhattan. Briggs enticed Jacobs away from the party and handed him over to his employer." Again, Gibbs held back, not telling Franks about how the man in question had raped Tony years ago at his father's summer house.

Franks looked hard at Gibbs. "You got anything except some hearsay and gut feelings, Probie?"

"I'll get the evidence, Boss," Gibbs promised. "I've got a feeling and I aim to prove it." So far the case had garnered little in the way of evidence that would hold up in court, other than too many missing men, and Soto and Brownlee's bodies that were currently resting down in the morgue. But Gibbs knew that Franks believed in instinct as much as he did in basic investigative techniques. So far there were no grounds for warrants to search the senator's residences or to plant any listening devices, but that wouldn’t stop the NCIS agents from investigating as far as they could without alerting him. Gibbs grinned and suggested, "Maybe we can invite the senator to come in and help us with an investigation."

"Not yet. Better tread carefully with this one, Probie. Don’t want to spook him or we'll have the FBI riding our assess." Franks squinted at Gibbs and fiddled with an unlit cigarette he pulled from his breast pocket. "So DiNozzo's son phoned you, right out of the blue?"

"I gave Tony my business card when I interviewed him last summer, and he called me when he was in the area on Friday night." Gibbs wasn't about to tell his boss that he'd driven 150 miles to pick Tony up – not exactly what you'd call in the area, but it was all semantics.

Franks studied his agent for a long moment before he asked, "You take all your witnesses home with you, Gunny, or just the pretty ones?"

Gibbs met his boss's astute gaze straight on, matching his glare with one of his own. He didn't like the way Franks called Tony pretty, even though he certainly found the young man attractive. Tony was handsome and sexy as all get-out. He was sweet and loving, and generous and funny, too, and there was a heady mix of toughness and vulnerability about the boy that made Gibbs want to make love with him and protect him at the same time. Hell, Gibbs just felt damned good when Tony was around; he wanted him here by his side, on his six, and in his bed. Just the fleeting thought of Tony in bed made Gibbs' heart start pounding away, and his dick was certainly exhibiting an interest. Shit, he sure had it bad. Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, Gibbs said firmly, "Tony asked me for help, Mike, and I sure as hell wasn't gonna leave him high and dry."

One thing for sure – Gibbs never regretted helping Tony out by picking him up at the police station and taking him home. If he hadn't taken that first step he might have never reconnected with the young man. He certainly wouldn’t have sought Tony out in pursuit of a homosexual relationship. In fact, before encountering Tony last summer out by the pool of his father's estate, Gibbs had never seriously looked at another man of any age. His experience had been limited to mutual hand-jobs, and he'd been on the receiving end of blowjobs a couple of times, just anonymous encounters. All the same, nothing he'd ever done had prepared him for this. What he had with Tony, after such a short time, was incredible and fulfilling on both a physical and an emotional level. If that made him gay or bisexual, then so be it; he didn't care much for labels anyway. Why Tony had pushed that particular button, Gibbs would never know and he didn't care to think too much about it. All he knew was that with Tony in his life, things were looking brighter for the first time since his wife and child had been killed, and for that he'd be eternally grateful.

Franks made a non-committal grunt and instructed, "Make sure you get the kid to ID Senator Harding from one of those photos. I have a one o'clock meeting with Director Morrow and Agent Fornell in MTAC and I want all of our ducks lined up before I head in there. Don't like to walk into a firefight unless I'm locked and loaded." Franks sent Gibbs a look that made it clear he believed it was going to be an interesting meeting. "You ever meet Tobias Fornell?"

"Nope." Gibbs had heard of Agent Fornell though. The up-and-coming agent's territory was New York but scuttlebutt was that the man was bucking for a coveted spot in the Bureau's DC office. Apparently Agent Fornell had publicly announced he was personally going to clean New York's streets of the pervasive mob influence. If there was one thing Gibbs hated, it was ambitious agency men. They tended to trample everyone on their way to the top, and often corrupted justice in pursuit of their own objective. He almost laughed at that thought because Mike Franks took shortcuts and did his own version of the Lone Ranger when he felt it was warranted, which was more often than not. Luckily, Director Morrow liked the lead agent of MCRT, as well as the top results Franks' team achieved on a regular basis.

Gibbs hadn't heard anything too negative about Fornell, other than he was a hardass, which might not be a bad thing. On the other hand, he'd heard plenty of bad things about Alonzo Torres, and it was going to take a strong, determined man to take him down. Maybe, Gibbs thought with a wry smile, Fornell and Torres were made for each other.

As far as Fornell planning a powwow with the director of NCIS this afternoon, well, the Fibbers didn't share anything unless they had a damned good reason. Fornell was likely to be on an intel-gathering mission with the goal of taking away a hell of a lot more than he planned on giving in return. "Watch your back in there, Boss," Gibbs said.

There was a knock on the door and Stan stuck his head in and held some paperwork aloft. "Got some info, Boss. For you, too, Gibbs. You want to do a sit-rep in the bullpen?"

"No, in here." Franks invited Burley with a wave of his hand, meantime saying to Gibbs, "Fornell has some good arrests under his belt, but he's all wrapped up in catching Torres with his hand in the cookie jar. Might narrow his vision some. Can't say I blame him; Torres has been top of their list ever since two FBI undercover agents were found murdered a few months back, with their bodies in one car and their decapitated heads in another," Franks said darkly.

Stan sat beside Gibbs and joined in, commenting, "It's no surprise that the FBI can't get anyone to testify against Torres. The man's dangerous but he's not stupid, and so far they haven't been able to gather enough evidence to bring him down."

Gibbs looked through the files the FBI had provided on the mob boss. "What've we got on Torres? Anything that'll help put him away?"

Stan opened the folder with an NCIS seal on it that he'd brought to the meeting. "Torres came out of Colombia only a few years ago, with some powerful backing. Since he set up shop in New York he's left a trail of bodies up and down the east coast. He's into everything: murder, theft, fraud, drugs. But he also has bigger ambitions, and has been working hard to get some of the top men on Capitol Hill in his pocket. Story is he hasn't had much success. According to our own intel, Torres has been financing arms shipments of weapons stolen from our overseas bases, to South America. His last big shipment was hijacked and the weapons intended for the guerilla fighters down there ended up in the enemy's hands."

Gibbs met Franks' eyes but neither of them spoke up.

Stan continued, "Our agents in Lima report that someone sold the freighter's schedule to the Peruvians. The ship was registered in Panama but the owners are out of Cyprus." Stan glanced up from the intelligence file and looked from Gibbs to their boss. "If we know about the hijacking, do we assume the FBI does, too?"

"Never assume," Franks corrected, almost absently. "Rule number eight."

Gibbs suppressed a smile, finding it amusing that Franks kept adding rules on the fly, and that Stan seemed to believe that there was an official rulebook lying around somewhere. Most of the rules were Gibbs' own, and a fair amount of them were Shannon's, but he'd never tell that to a soul. Number three – never be unreachable – that one was hers. His wife had told him it didn't matter where he was, he always needed to be reachable. That way, even if she didn’t hear from him she'd still know she could get in touch, and then she wouldn’t worry so much. Putting the bittersweet memories aside, Gibbs informed Stan, "DiNozzo Sr.'s the one who arranged the freighter for his cohort Alonzo Torres. He arranges things, connects the right people, gets the job done."

Stan turned to look at Gibbs. "That a fact?"

With a slight shrug, Gibbs replied, "He knew the ship's itinerary and the payoff was good."

Franks asked bluntly, "What else ya got, Burley?"

"According to bank records I, uh, accessed," Stan said, "DiNozzo Sr. has moved significant amounts of money out of the country over the past few months. His transactions were red-flagged due to the amounts as well as the frequency of transfers. They could have been valid business transactions," he suggested, even though all of the men in the room, himself included, seemed skeptical. Stan hesitated but then asked Gibbs, "Does Alonzo Torres know who screwed him over?"

Gibbs said, "I'd imagine there's a pretty short list of who knew the details about such an important shipment. How'd you get a warrant for the bank records so fast, Stan?"

"Oh…I…Okay, so I might have jumped the gun a little, and took some shortcuts," Stan admitted, somewhat bashfully. "But I covered my tracks and Boss said I needed to show more initiative."

Franks grinned. "Atta boy. We'll make a great agent out of you yet, Burley. Just have to get rid of all those bad habits you picked up when you were a congressman's aide."

Stan smiled at the rare compliment. "Thanks, Boss. One thing's for sure; I'm glad I'm not DiNozzo Sr." He looked at Gibbs as if he wanted to say something, but instead he dropped his gaze and concentrated on the file he'd brought into the conference room.

Gibbs thought exactly the same thing and growled, "How stupid could a man be, risking everything – his own life, and his son's life, too – by double-crossing a Colombian mobster, all for a few bucks? The guy's dead meat." He realized that Stan and Jenny must know Tony DiFonzzo's real name by now, if Franks had them investigating Senior's activities. As with most people, they'd liked Tony right off and, like Gibbs, they'd be wondering what impact his father's criminal activities would have on Tony's future. Gibbs turned to Franks and asked, "Is the FBI going to strong-arm DiNozzo Sr. into testifying against Torres?"

Franks replied, "If they are, they haven't told me. I'll find out more when I meet Fornell later. Has your boy Tony got anything else up his sleeve we need to know about, Probie?"

Uncomfortable that Franks called Tony 'his boy' in front of Stan, Gibbs replied briefly, "Not that I know of."

"Yeah, you need to have a talk with Junior. Make sure we have everything he knows, and double-check it all." Franks leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms with a smirk on his face. "Unless you'd prefer me to have a chat with him."

"No, I'll go over Tony's statement with him as soon as he's finished writing it," Gibbs quickly assured his boss. Franks' idea of a chat was an out-and-out interrogation and Gibbs couldn't imagine subjecting Tony to one of those. "I don't want the FBI getting their hands on Tony, Boss. He doesn't know enough about his father's business to implicate Torres in any crime but they might be hard on him." The conversation Tony had overheard between his father and the Peruvian about waylaying a shipload of weapons wouldn't help the FBI's case against Torres.

Most likely the FBI would try to coerce DiNozzo Sr. to turn against Torres by threatening Tony in some way, not knowing that DiNozzo would sacrifice his son if his own freedom were at stake. Gibbs had no doubt at all that no matter how useful Tony may be to his father's business affairs, Senior would cut all ties with his son if it meant saving his own neck.

Mike Franks promised, "I'll do what I can to protect the kid, Probie. You know the unspoken rule: family comes first."

Gibbs could feel Stan looking at him curiously, and he was sure his ears were turning pink, but he managed a curt nod at his boss, grateful for his support.

Stan elbowed Gibbs lightly. "Hey, you know those things you asked me to check into? Well, I crosschecked Anthony DiNozzo Sr.'s fraternity brothers with politicians who travel between New York and DC, figured in a military background, and came up with only one possibility. He's a U.S. senator named–"

Gibbs cut in, "Senator Kingston Harding." He pulled out the photo that showed Harding with his arm slung around DiNozzo Sr.. Stan managed to appear both surprised and disappointed that Gibbs had beaten him to the punch, so Gibbs made a point of thanking the younger agent then asked, "You find out who Briggs is?"

"Steven James Briggs, the senator's personal assistant. Formerly a political aide, who started out as an investment counselor. I read the notes from when we were in New York and you interviewed Anthony DiNozzo, Jr…." Stan glanced at Gibbs out of the corner of his eye. "He said Briggs was five-six, two-hundred pounds, in his mid-fifties, and an executive but not a corner-office man. That describes the senator's assistant to a T." Gibbs kept his smile to himself as Stan continued, "Briggs has been with Harding for about ten years. He lives on the senator's estate, in one of the guest cottages. No criminal record, nothing out of the ordinary on the surface."

"And below the surface?" Franks asked.

"Sorry, Boss, nothing yet."

Gibbs asked, "We know that Torres is trying to buy Senator Harding, but what's he need him for?"

Stan explained, "Because of the huge business in drugs. The Colombian government is bucking for a huge infusion of money from the U.S. and they need friends in the Senate. Our government has already provided them with military aid, and is talking about sending more, including attack helicopters and large arms, all to combat the drug traffickers. The guerillas down there are winning the war against their government, and they're moving large amounts of drugs over their borders to finance their operations."

Franks said, with a snort, "Yeah, well we can guess which side Torres is on."

Stan pointed out, "Senator Harding is in a position to influence whether or not the U.S. continues to give support to the Colombian government."

"And Torres' goal is to stop the aid," Gibbs said, shaking his head in disgust. Torres was using DiNozzo Sr.'s contacts, and his renowned skills with influencing people and sealing big deals, to purchase the political clout he needed in order to keep an open pipeline for his drug business. "Guess the senator will be voting 'no'."

***end chapter 21***


	22. The Key

Franks looked at his watch and instructed his agents, "We're about done here, but before you go, have a look through these." He handed the men a pile of photographs.  
  
Gibbs started leafing through them, with Stan looking over his shoulder. All of the surveillance shots were taken from a distance; some featured passengers disembarking from a sleek private jet, and others were taken in front of hotels or restaurants. Almost all of the subjects were men. It was impossible to tell at a glance if they were photographed in DC or New York or some other big city. Gibbs didn't need to look at the notations on the back of the photos to recognize several of the men as politicians. Some of the figures were unmistakably bodyguards on protection detail and others were possibly aides. Gibbs held up one of the photos that showed a dark-haired man of about forty entering a limousine with a couple of bodyguards standing nearby. "This one's Alonzo Torres?"  
  
Franks nodded in confirmation. "Yup, he's the piece of shit Fornell is after. These photos were taken over the past few months. There's a log written on the back of every photo," Franks pointed out to Stan. "Do we have the number to Torres' cell phone?"  
  
"Not yet, Boss," Stan said apologetically. "Can't find the number and the FBI says they don't know it."  
  
"Huh," grunted Franks. "More likely they don't want to give it up."  
  
"Maybe he doesn't have a cell phone," Gibbs suggested.  
  
Stan looked at him as if he was crazy. "Everyone has a cell these days, Gibbs, even kids in high school."  
  
"I wouldn’t have one if I didn't need it for work," Gibbs countered, wondering offhand why Tony didn't have a cell phone. It struck him that after he'd picked up Tony he'd handed over his own phone so Tony could call his coach to let him know he was okay. Odd that Tony didn't have one of his own, but maybe the muggers had taken it, along with his cash and ID. He'd ask Tony about it later on, Gibbs thought, then concentrated on the issue with Torres. "Maybe Torres lets his men handle his phone calls so his own words can't be used against him. No chance of getting nabbed for wire fraud," Gibbs reasoned out as he flipped through the photos and read the info provided on the back of each one. As he'd deduced, they were mostly politicians, aides and bodyguards, and were identified by name in most cases. There were question marks as to some of the men's identities. Gibbs handed Stan the photos of the unidentified men.  
  
Franks ordered Stan, "Run the faces they haven't identified as soon as we're done here so we have something to give the FBI at this meeting. Call Pacci in to help." One thing that NCIS had was the latest facial recognition software, better than anything the FBI had.  
  
"Sure thing," said Stan. "At least the FBI can't say we didn't help them out."  
  
Franks asked, "You find anything useful for our Lookout killer case this morning, Burley?"  
  
"Yes, sir. We've been checking out Senator Harding's past movement for patterns. He travels back and forth between New York and DC according to when the Senate is in session, often by DiNozzo's private jet. I compared Harding's whereabouts to the times and locations when each of the sailors went missing, as well as when the bodies we recovered were dumped. The senator was in New York on the days when each of the men went missing up there, and he was in the DC area on the same dates that sailors disappeared from here. Of course this doesn't mean he killed anyone, just that he was in the same city. We can track and verify his movements more closely on each of those days if we get a warrant for the senator's credit cards, phone, and bank records." Stan took a breath and looked expectantly at his boss.  
  
Franks let out a sigh and said, "We don't have enough to get that warrant, Burley. Not yet. Map where he's been by his cell phone and keep an eye on him."  
  
"Jenny's been doing that now, sir." Stan glanced at Gibbs out of the corner of his eye and asked Franks, "Boss, you want us to continue watching DiNozzo Sr.'s cell?"  
  
"Yeah, keep on both of them. And keep trying to find out what Torres' number is."  
  
Gibbs suggested, "Check out the cell phones of his associates."  
  
Stan nodded and asked, "Boss, does this mean that the FBI is after Senator Harding for alleged treason at the same time that NCIS is looking at him for the Lookout serial killings?"  
  
Franks pointed out, "Director Morrow's directive is that we should pursue our case on the killer no matter what the FBI's agenda might be."  
  
"Uh, won't the FBI try to undercut us and try to get evidence against the senator to support their own case?"  
  
Gibbs swiveled in his chair to stare at his fellow agent. "Since when do we let any other agency take the lead on one of our cases, Burley?"  
  
Stan said, "Well, Harding is a close personal friend of Secretary of the Navy Connelly. He is highly regarded in political and business circles, and has lots of friends high up."  
  
It was Franks' turn to raise his eyebrows and ask, "You got a point, Burley? We don't care who he knows. All men are equal when they're part of a murder investigation, or that's the way this agency plays it."  
  
Stan leaned forward and said, "I was just making sure, sir, because Senator Harding was a naval captain. His father was Vice Admiral Gaynes Harding. Various uncles and brothers were also high-ranking, some still on active duty. It's a family tradition. I did find out that just before he retired Harding went before a secure committee on an undisclosed matter." Stan pulled a document out of the file in his hand and pointed out, "The hearing's findings were sealed under the N-40 clause."  
  
When Gibbs looked at him questioningly, Stan explained further, "That usually happens when you testify against someone of higher rank, to ensure you're not marked as a whistleblower for the rest of your career."  
  
Gibbs looked over Stan's shoulder and read the former naval captain's sheet. "Captain Harding was only forty when he left the Navy," he noted. "Sorta early to retire. Maybe Harding wasn't testifying; maybe he was the one being investigated. Think he was forced out? Any way we can find out the details from JAG, Boss?"  
  
Franks shook his head. "Not without a damned good reason and a long wait for paperwork to be processed, and even then it's unlikely." He took the file from Burley and looked it over. "If this case was being brought against Harding, it went dead in the water. No sign that it went to trial. Whatever it was about, it looks like he walked away scot-free. Retired with his rank and pension intact." Franks looked at his agents and asked, "You got something to say, Gunny?"  
  
Gibbs rubbed his jaw and posed the question that was on his mind. "Think he's been taking out his anger about his deep-sixed military career on a long line of lowly seamen he's kidnapping, raping and killing?"  
  
"That's a bit of a jump there, Probie. Get me some evidence and we'll deal."  
  
Gibbs had a strong feeling they were on the right track. "How'd he get so far in politics without anybody digging this dirt up on him?"  
  
Franks shrugged. "The man's friends with SecNav, Probie. Looks like it was buried – deep." He smiled wickedly at Gibbs and suggested, "You could always ask the Secretary of the Navy yourself, next time you see him."  
  
Gibbs nodded. "I might just do that, Boss."  
  
"I'll pay to see that, Gibbs," Stan said with a grin. He stood and gathered his paperwork together, and after a nod from Franks he left the conference room.  
  
Gibbs took the opportunity to say, "I'm going to see how Tony's getting along with his statement." There'd be no problem, on a Sunday, to find an empty room where they could go over it in private. He wanted to make sure that Tony was thorough but also that he'd said nothing to incriminate himself. Gibbs held up his empty coffee mug. "You need a refill, Boss?"  
  
Franks shook his head and hesitated before saying, "Come back here when you're done, Probie. I need a word with you."  
  
"Something you want to go over now?" Gibbs watched as Franks rubbed the back of his neck.  
  
"I have to make some calls. You check up on the kid and be back here in twenty."  
  
It wasn't like his boss to hedge. Gibbs headed for the bullpen with an uneasy feeling in his gut.  
  
*  
  
Gibbs stood in one of his favorite spots, out of the way, in the shadow of the staircase but close enough to observe the goings-on in the bullpen. He watched as Tony finished typing up his statement on Pacci's computer.  
  
"There," Tony said with a flourish. My first official NCIS report is all done. Sorry it took so long, Agent Shepard," he apologized politely. "I hate writing papers for school. I have all this stuff in my head but I can never get it down the way I picture it. Course this is why I'm a Phys. Ed. major – less term papers and more time for parties and hot babes." Tony grinned and wiggled his eyebrows at Jenny as he leaned back casually in his chair.  
  
Stan, who was busy doing a database search, smiled and shook his head at Tony's comments without ever raising his eyes from his computer screen.  
  
Jenny rolled her eyes, printed out the statement and tucked it in a discreet manila folder. She turned to Tony and asked, a sneer in her voice, "Is that all you want to be, a jock? Not the smartest career choice, DiNozzo. Hoping to be the next Joe Montana? Or maybe you think you'll be as good as Dennis Rodman?"   
  
Jenny knew that Tony had been lying about his real name, and that his father was part of an ongoing investigation. She was pissed, probably feeling put out that, as an investigator, she should have seen through Tony's lies. But Tony was good at undercover work and with Gibbs at his side, why would anyone think he was anything but who he said he was – college kid Tony DiFonzzo, just hanging around with his father's friend, Agent Gibbs, for the weekend?  
  
Jenny leaned over Tony's desk, exhibiting a fair amount of cleavage. "You're so good at deception I'm so surprised you're not planning to follow in your father's footsteps." Tony leaned back as if afraid she was going to get physical, his eyes widening at her verbal attack.  
  
Gibbs thought Jenny's tone, if not her words, seemed unnecessarily harsh. Stan tore his eyes away from his work long enough to frown at the redheaded agent, apparently puzzled by her attitude.  
  
As soon as he'd called Stan last night to ask him to look into some things, Gibbs had set the play in motion. Stan had disclosed what he was working on to their boss, which Gibbs couldn’t blame him for. And Franks had recognized Tony from a surveillance photo taken with his father, and he'd figured out, to some extent, what was going on. Gibbs was a little surprised they weren't all pissed at him for keeping Tony's identity from them. He could certainly handle the heat but he didn't like seeing anyone take out their frustration on Tony.  
  
"Doesn't it bother you at all," she asked, "that your old man is under scrutiny by not one but two federal agencies? Or is that par for the course with your rich daddy?"  
  
Just as Gibbs prepared to step in, Tony straightened in his chair, his face set in a deceptively pleasant expression. Gibbs waited, anticipating that Tony was about to fight back.  
  
"Well, Agent Shepard," Tony said coolly. "Of course it bothers me and, as you apparently realize, my father is hardly the kind of man I'd emulate. I'd rather follow in Very Special Agent Gibbs' footsteps."  
  
"Just don't trip over yourself tryin', DiNozzo," Gibbs said as he swept into the bullpen, his features set in a sardonic expression.  
  
Jenny started to laugh, but she caught Gibbs' glowering look, so she quickly changed her laughter into a cough and stepped away from Tony's desk. "So, you want to be like Agent Gibbs, do you?" she asked Tony. She sent Gibbs a smile and a wink that belied her next words. "Let me get this right. Your ambition, such as it is, is to emulate a coffee-drinking, demanding federal agent who scares the shit out of hardened criminals, making them literally beg for anyone else but Agent Gibbs to handle their interrogation? We are talking about a man who smiles so rarely that when he does smile someone takes a video of the event as proof. The man who–"  
  
"Yes," Tony said loudly, bristling and rising from his chair. "Yes!" Tony caught Gibbs watching him and his expression of anger was replaced by one of pride. He relaxed in his chair once again, and never lost eye contact with Gibbs when he said with sincerity, "Of course I'd want to be like Agent Gibbs. He's a US Marine, a war hero who's still fighting for his country. He's been awarded seventeen medals for heroic and humanitarian acts, including the Silver Star, the Marine Corps Commendation, and the United Nations Medal. Gibbs is dedicated to justice and to helping people. He's dependable and loyal, and he cares about his friends, and he'd go out on a limb for any of them without giving it a second thought. I know that first-hand." Tony gave a small laugh of wonder and his features lit up with a brilliant smile. "What's not to like?"  
  
Despite being uncomfortable with such praise, Gibbs' heart swelled with pleasure that his boy had spoken so highly about him, and he thought he couldn’t possibly love Tony much more than he did right at that moment. He knew that Tony cared for him but to hear Tony say the words aloud, and with such fervor, was better than any medal or award. "You forgot to say I was impatient, sarcastic, and gonna slap someone in a minute if you don't get back to work," Gibbs growled, glaring at Jenny and snatching the folder containing Tony's statement from her hand. He tucked it under his arm and motioned for the young man to follow him. "DiNozzo, you're with me."  
  
Tony did as he was told and scampered after Gibbs with a grin on his face, not caring at all that Jenny was looking daggers at him.  
  
*  
  
They found an empty office at the end of the hall and Gibbs locked the door behind them. "Business first," Gibbs warned before the young man had a chance to speak. He parked his hip on the corner of the desk and read through Tony's statement.   
  
Tony took a seat in the big upholstered chair behind the desk and fiddled with the nameplate that decreed the desk belonged to 'Special Agent Leon Vance, Training Specialist'. He soon lost interest in making anagrams of the letters on the nameplate – "Ecnav noel, clean oven, lean coven, navel cone," Tony mouthed – and began to play with the various personal items within reach. There was a box of toothpicks that said 'Stop for Lunch and You Are Lunch' on its lid, a letter opener shaped like a military sword with the Navy seal on the hilt, and a pad of paper with 'Brick City Boxing Club' imprinted across the top.  Tony tested the sharpness of the paper opener and cried, "Ow," when the point pierced the tip of his finger; a few droplets of blood splattered across the pad of paper from the boxing club.  
  
Gibbs had to tear his eyes away from the sight of Tony sucking his wounded finger, wishing those talented lips were sucking something else, like his dick. With difficulty, Gibbs tore his gaze away and went back to reading the statement. He was impressed with the way it was written; it told the story without too many embellishments, and appeared to be thorough with detailed locations, names and dates included. Considering that a guy who proudly proclaimed he was 'only a jock' wrote it, the quality of the report was good, but Gibbs had come to realize that it was typical of Tony to downplay his more academic skills. There were a couple of weak sections in the statement but, all in all, it would do.  
  
Tony was trying to open Vance's desk drawers, which apparently were locked. "What kind of training does Agent Vance do, Jethro? Hey, d'you know how to pick a lock?" Tony asked, vigorously rattling one of the drawers, only to glance up and find Gibbs frowning at him. "Okaaay, guess not."  
  
"Special training," Gibbs said vaguely, only knowing that the new agent was involved in something that was need-to-know. One thing for sure, he did not like being one of the people who did not need to know. "And yeah, I know how to pick a lock, DiNozzo, but it aint' something I plan to teach you anytime soon. This is good work," he said with a nod at the paper. Tony's eyes dropped but Gibbs could see by the little smile that pulled at the corners of Tony's mouth that he was pleased by the praise. After putting the paperwork back safely in its folder, Gibbs pointed to a name penciled on the manila folder's tab. "'Antone Demarco'?" he asked, indicating the unknown name.  
  
"Oh, yeah, Agent Shepard said I was to be treated as a protected witness so I get a code name. Very James Bond," Tony said with a Scottish accent. "I came up with the alias but she said you'd have to approve it." He smiled at Gibbs in a blatant entreaty for that approval.  
  
Gibbs didn't like Jenny helping Tony choose a name, or to be within ten feet him, for that matter. "It'll do. Someone you know?"  
  
Tony laughed as if Gibbs had said something very funny, then stifled his laughter when he saw the stony glare Gibbs sent his way. "No," Tony said. "Demarco was a burlesque dancer, did vaudeville. He was in the Marx Brothers' 'Cocoanuts' in 1929. My mother loved him in those crazy Carmen Miranda movies from the forties. Carmen Miranda was famous for telling people that she only knew three words in English: money, money, and money." He laughed briefly and then inquired, "Jethro, why does Agent Vance lock all the drawers in his desk and you don't lock yours?"  
  
He hadn't given Vance much thought at all, except perhaps that the man, who hadn't been with NCIS for long, wasn't quite what he appeared to be. "You been snooping around in my desk?"  
  
Tony shifted a little in Special Agent Vance's upholstered chair. "I was only looking for a pencil," he said innocently. "D'you know that poem by O'Reilly that goes, 'You gave me the key of your heart, my love; then why did you make me knock?' 'Oh that was yesterday, saints above! And last night – I changed the lock!'?"  
  
It was hard to know what to say in reply to Tony sometimes, Gibbs thought, or to figure out where these jumps in subject were coming from or where they were leading. He found himself amused by the way Tony's mind worked, the way his mind leaped around like an inquisitive cat.  
  
Tony stood and came around the desk to stand awkwardly in front of Gibbs with his hands shoved in his pockets. "Jethro?"  
  
"Yeah," Gibbs replied, noticing the way the faded blue denim tautened across Tony's crotch due to his hands filling his jeans. He started to feel hot and wondered if they had time for more than just a talk.  
  
"I heard Agent Burley mention the FBI." Tony bit his lip and then sent a look of appeal to Gibbs, saying said in a low voice, "They're going to bring my father in, and even though I know you won't let anything happen to me…I…I don't want to go with strangers."  
  
Jesus, when Tony looked at him that way, all huge eyes with a hint of fear in their green depths, something melted in Gibbs' heart. "You're not leaving the custody of NCIS, Tony," he assured the young man. Gibbs reached out and drew Tony to his chest, loving the way Tony slid his hands around his waist to pull him even closer, and the way the young man rested his cheek on Gibbs' shoulder. Tony was strong, and insistent, and the last vestiges of Gibbs' reluctance to do more than hold his boy flew out the window. Tony turned his head and their mouths met, and Gibbs gave in and crushed Tony in a long, wet, possessive kiss.  
  
***end chapter 22***


	23. Lock, Stock and Barrel

Gibbs' hands explored Tony's body as if of their own accord, sliding under his shirt to caress the silky smooth skin of his back, sides and belly. He sucked on Tony's tongue while he rubbed his thumb in slow circles around his nipple, feeling a little thrill when it hardened under his touch. Both of Tony's nipples were currently free of their little gold adornments, the rings having been tucked safely away in his jeans pocket. Gibbs leaned unrelentingly into the young man, pressing him hard against the desk, his thigh thrust between Tony's legs, every move intended to prove he was in charge. Gibbs drove his hips against Tony's groin and grunted deep in the back of his throat when Tony rocked to meet him, thrust for thrust. Their tongues danced around each other with Tony trying, and failing, to establish dominance. It wasn't long before Tony groaned into Gibbs' mouth and relaxed, accepting defeat, obviously knowing from the start it was inevitable and not caring one iota.

Gibbs undid the zipper of Tony's jeans to allow himself the freedom to explore, his fingers stealing to the small of Tony's back and delving into the crevice between his firm ass cheeks, where the skin was warm and damp with sweat. Tony groaned again and whispered, "Jethro," when his lips abandoned Gibbs' mouth to trail down his throat, kissing and licking, and sucking gently as he went.

"Don't mark me," Gibbs warned in a husky voice, wishing he could feel Tony's strong white teeth biting into his muscle. He could see the edge of the gauze square taped to Tony's neck, just under the collar of his shirt. It covered the deep bite wound Gibbs had made when he was in a frenzy born of lust, and he felt like a hypocrite telling Tony he couldn't return the favor. Gibbs raised one hand and brushed his fingers across the bandage, ever so tenderly. Adjusting Tony's shirt to cover it up, Gibbs closed his eyes for a moment and swore he'd never get so out of control again.

"Hey," Tony said, getting Gibbs to look at him. "One day we'll mark each other," Tony promised, looking into Gibbs' eyes in a way that said he knew exactly what he was thinking about. "Soon." Tony pushed away from the desk and sank to his knees. He quickly undid Gibbs' belt and had his trousers unzipped in the blink of an eye. "Let me…"

Gibbs grasped Tony's shoulder and asserted, "Tony, no…There's no time."

"I'm a fast worker," Tony said with a grin as he pulled down Gibbs' pants, revealing his white cotton boxers. He nuzzled Gibbs' burgeoning erection, concealed behind the folds of the underwear, causing Gibbs' cock to twitch and harden in response. "Oh, Jethro," Tony murmured happily, as if greeting an old friend. "You missed me." With his lips covering his teeth, he took hold of Gibbs' cloth-covered cock and gently bit down, then worried it a little, back and forth, growling like a dog.

Gibbs gasped and his stomach muscles clenched at the rough treatment, but a shiver of anticipation ran from his balls all the way down to his toes. He could feel his dick straining to escape the confines of his boxers, its swell caught within the unrelenting grip of Tony's mouth. The pressure of Tony's lips against his cock-head and the pull on it and the murmur of appreciation made Gibbs realize that Tony was tasting his pre-come as it soaked through the lightweight fabric. While Tony sucked his dick through the underwear, Gibbs reached out to caress Tony's soft hair in encouragement. "I want…I want to feel your mouth," Gibbs managed to get out. It was suddenly very hard to speak. Tony's tongue found its way inside the fly and proceeded to lick the head of Gibbs' cock, making obscene suckling noises, and Gibbs released a shuddering groan.

Then the entire length of his shaft was exposed, jutting out from his white boxers, flushed and dark pink, shiny with pre-come and Tony's saliva. Tony wrapped one hand around its base and gracefully stroked its length before taking the head deeper into his mouth. God, the slick play of Tony's tongue as it flicked across the underside of his cock, the pressure of his lips, the suction that alternated from gentle to ruthlessly strong – it drove Gibbs to jerk his hips until Tony steadied him with a free hand.

Gibbs had to lean against the desk when his knees grew weak, and closed his eyes for a moment, panting as he was overcome with pleasure from Tony's tongue running along the vein pulsing on the underside of his swollen cock. He looked down to see Tony's eyelids droop heavily over large, dark pupils, the lust on his face evident, making him more beautiful than ever. "God," Gibbs said in a throaty rasp. "That's so good…" His voice rose with need. "Oh God, my boy…"

Tony's head bobbed up and down while he rolled Gibbs' balls in one hand, and he applied pressure to that spot behind them, making Gibbs throw his head back and express a guttural moan. Tony slid his mouth almost to the base of Gibbs' cock and hummed, and Gibbs felt the sound reverberating all the way into his balls. His hands reached blindly for Tony's shoulders as he rocked and came in a succession of bursts, grunting out, "Uh…uh…uh," in tempo with every ejaculation he made into the depths of Tony's throat.

Afterwards Gibbs found himself on his ass on the floor, his back supported by NCIS Training Specialist Leon Vance's sturdy desk. Tony's face was buried in his lap, licking up the remains of Gibbs' come. Gently, Tony stroked Gibbs' softening cock and tucked it away in Gibbs' slightly damp boxers. He then encouraged Gibbs to rise to his feet so that he could pull up his trousers. Once his clothing was put right, Gibbs kissed Tony on the temple and then the cheek and finally on his mouth, every kiss full of love and gratitude.

Tony smiled with pleasure. He hugged Gibbs and said, "I think I'd make a good valet. A gentleman's gentleman, like the butler in 'Arthur'. Hobson."

Thinking about how Tony had stood up for what he'd believed in back in the bullpen, and the resilience he'd exhibited despite – or perhaps because of – his background, Gibbs shook his head. "Somehow I don't think you're gonna end up being anyone's valet."

"Hobson said–"

"Hobson?"

"The butler in the movie, Gibbs," Tony said, impatient that Gibbs wasn't following what he was saying. "Hobson said, 'You feel unloved, Arthur? Welcome to the world. Everyone is unloved. Now stop feeling sorry for yourself. And incidentally, I love you.'" Tony smiled wryly. "I do, you know."

"Do what?"

"And incidentally, I do love you, Jethro." Tony stroked a hand down Gibbs' cheek, his touch light and warm. "I'm pretty sure that to a man like you this is just a temporary sort of insanity, which I totally understand. I mean, we jumped into the deep end of the pool here. I never expected this to last forever, although it would be really nice. But, like Hobson said, welcome to the world. Time to face reality. You've got a job to do and I've got classes and basketball practice to get back to." Tony said, a little sadly, "Maybe one day when you look back at this you can remember that if there's one true thing that's come out of this weekend, it's that I really do love you. Just promise me that you'll remember that, later on."

Tony was right; their weekend was over, and the reality of the situation was that Gibbs had a slew of murders to solve and a boss – probably a very ticked-off boss by this time – awaiting him in the conference room. It looked like Tony needed reassurance that everything would be all right in the end, and even if they would most likely have to walk a difficult road, Gibbs tried to put his mind at ease. "I'm not gonna let you go, Tony. I want to be with you." Angling his head Gibbs kissed the young man gently, trying to find a way to let Tony know how much he meant to him. Gibbs took Tony's face in his hands and said, "I'm not talking about just one weekend. I want long-term."

Tony looked at him in disbelief, and gave a small shake of his head even as he asked in wonder, "You mean it, don't you?"

"Yeah, I do. You're mine, Tony, and don't you ever forget that." No way was this going to be the end of their brief but passionate relationship. "It doesn't matter what happens with the cases, or the damned FBI, or your father. This is separate. This is about us." He wouldn’t let any of those outside factors affect them. "We'll figure it out."

Tony's response was a trusting smile but there was still doubt in his eyes. "Okay."

Gibbs looked at Tony and felt a tug at his heart. He gave Tony a quick hug and intended to get moving before Franks sent out a search party, but he stopped when he felt Tony's half-hard erection pressing against his leg. He should have thought about Tony's needs earlier. "Tony…" He went to touch him but his hand was stilled.

Tony shook his head. "It's all right. I can wait."

Suddenly, out of nowhere, an irrational fear swept over Gibbs that they'd be unable to be close like this again. Knowing they'd run out of time, Gibbs kissed Tony again, desperate to taste him, to commit every nuance of Tony's skin and scent to memory. All too soon they broke the kiss and Gibbs reached for the door.

Tony grabbed his arm and said, "Jethro, before we go…I've been thinking. Maybe I can stay here, with you, and–." Gibbs protested, knowing that Tony had to return to college, but Tony interrupted. "Wait, just listen for a minute, will you? I can transfer to a university in DC, and find a room to rent. I'll just bet there's someone in Arlington who has a big house with a spare bedroom, and maybe he'd consider renting it out to a well-behaved college kid who talks too much, and likes old movies and older men." Gibbs glared and poked Tony in the side, making him laugh. "Okay, this college student likes one mature man in particular – a guy who really needs someone to live with him so when he comes home late from work there'll be a friendly face to greet him. Someone to keep him warm, who needs him, who wants him so damned much it hurts and…Jethro, I don't think I can leave."

Gibbs pulled Tony close, one hand wrapped around the back of Tony's neck, and tried to keep control of his emotions. He whispered, "Shhh, shhh. It'll be all right. We'll work it out, you'll see."

"I need you, really badly," Tony murmured into the side of Gibb's neck. "But I think you need me more than I need you, and that's really a scary concept…"

Gibbs crushed Tony in a forceful kiss and then tore himself away, holding him at arm's length. "No. Just…no more. Not now." He swallowed hard and said, "I've gotta get back to work. You go to the bullpen, Tony. We'll talk about this later. Promise."

Tony nodded, took a breath, and settled a neutral expression upon his features. They left Vance's office and Gibbs closed the door behind them. "Tony?"

Tony turned to Gibbs and asked, "Yeah?"

"I won't ever change the lock." Better yet, Gibbs thought, he'd leave the door to his home unlocked so Tony could walk right in whenever he wanted to.

***

Gibbs knew he wasn't going to like whatever his boss was about to say. Bracing himself for the worst, he stood at attention with his shoulders squared and his back straight, as if for inspection. He watched Mike Franks pace up and down the conference room, puffing away on a hand-rolled cigarette, a deep frown of concentration on his face. Eventually Franks halted and stubbed out the remains of the unfiltered butt on the sole of his shoe.

The smell of tobacco smoke lingered in the air, heavy and acrid, making Gibbs thankful he'd never taken up smoking. "There something you want to tell me, Boss?"

He'd cleaned himself up in the men's room before coming back to the conference room. Even though he had applied some Chapstick to his lips, Gibbs knew there was no getting around the fact that he looked like he'd just come from a heavy make-out session – which he had. Apart from a sending a sharp look Gibbs' way when he first returned, Franks had taken no notice of what his lead agent had been up to during his long coffee break.

"At ease, Gunny." Franks impatiently motioned for Gibbs to be seated and took a chair on the other side of the table. "Before you came in this morning, I got a call from a Sergeant Callisto, out in North Brewer," Franks said.

That got Gibbs' attention.

"He wanted to let you know they caught the guys who were assaulting folks up there, around bars and strip joints in his precinct. There were three of these muggers, all under eighteen." Franks looked hard at Gibbs and drawled, "The sergeant seemed to think you were Tony's dad. You wanna explain that?"

Gibbs ran a hand through his hair and said, "That's what Tony told him when they took him into custody." He hadn't denied he was Tony's father when the desk sergeant had asked about his relationship to Tony. Now Gibbs was glad to hear that the local LEOs had caught the muggers; he really wanted a piece of the men who had roughed up Tony, and he didn't give a shit if they were young enough to end up in juvie hall. Gibbs couldn’t blame the teenager for wanting to see a girly show, but now he knew Tony better he wondered how he'd been dumb enough to walk straight into trouble when he'd left the club that night.

"They said it was for his own protection," Franks said, looking at his agent curiously. "You hardly knew him, but you went out on a limb for the kid."

It looked like Franks had known since this morning that he'd gone out of his way to rescue Tony. Gibbs sighed and asked, "Why didn't you say anything earlier?"

"Hell, I didn't know who Tony really was until I saw the surveillance photos the FBI sent over this morning, and saw him with DiNozzo Sr. Then when Burley told me he was looking into Tony's father, on your say-so, I thought I'd wait and see what he uncovered. And," Franks added with accusation lacing his words, "I wanted to see what you had to say, Probie."

"I told you what Tony found out about the pirated freighter and everything that he overheard." Even so, Gibbs hadn't explained how or why he'd encountered Tony on Friday night. It hadn't seemed necessary, but now Gibbs told the rest to his boss. "Tony was at a college swimming competition in Brewer. He and his buddies planned to do a little sightseeing, and went to the strip club before they caught their bus back to college." He shrugged. "Or that was their plan. His friends bailed on him, so Tony was on his own. Got mugged, beat up, and called me for help from the police station." As he was talking, Gibbs had the feeling that his boss already had a pretty good idea of what had transpired. Gibbs had always had an acute sense of when people didn't tell him the truth, and Franks was holding back, he realized. "There something else I should know, Boss?" asked Gibbs.

"Well," Franks said, almost reluctantly, "according to the detective out in North Brewer, these young muggers swore up and down they never mugged and never beat up Tony."

"Tony has the bruises to prove otherwise," Gibbs said, incensed. "You've seen the marks: his ribs, his forehead and his throat. One of those little bastards choked him," Gibbs said angrily, thinking of the bruises from someone's fingers marking Tony's neck. Ducky had said the marks had been made by a large hand. "They took his wallet and Tony fought back." When he'd seen the red scrapes on Tony's knuckles he'd felt satisfaction that Tony had gotten in some punches of his own. "You know that perps deny their actions all the time," he said dismissively.

"True, but the sarge says none of the three crap-for-brains perps had any marks on their hands, nor anywhere on their bodies. No sign they physically attacked anyone or vice versa. The cops recovered the licenses and IDs the teenagers took off their victims. Stupid kids kept the Ids as trophies but there wasn't a one in the bunch that fit Tony's description. No Tony DiFonzzo or otherwise."

"What're you saying? That Tony made it all up? That's crap! They stole his ID and his money. They beat him up, dammit, and he has the bruises to show for it!"

Franks sighed and leaned forward in his chair. "The sarge went with his detective to interview the people who worked at this club, Honey Bunny's. One of the bouncers, name of Royce, said he saw Tony hanging around, talking to some of the customers. From what this Royce witnessed, he figured the kid was making arrangements to meet up for sex, so he stepped in and told Tony to go hustle at another club."

"Hustle? What the hell are you talking about?" Gibbs got to his feet and Franks rose to meet him, his hands palm out in a calming gesture.

"Hold on there, Probie."

Gibbs said adamantly, "Tony was there to check out the strippers. Okay, so maybe he met one of the girls out back for a little one-on-one action–"

"No, Probie."

"–and these teens came along and mugged him. Ask the girl–"

"No," Franks cut in. "Gibbs! Tony wasn't hustling one of the girls. It was a customer, a businessman tossin' back happy hour drinks. The bouncer's been working at that club for years and he knows a hustler when he sees one. I followed up, called him not fifteen minutes ago, to confirm. The customer admitted Tony had invited him somewhere private for a blowjob. If the bouncer hadn't intervened…"

Gibbs stood there, his mind racing, trying to figure out why Tony would be hustling, what the hell he'd been up to at the club. No, Tony wouldn’t approach a customer and invite him out back for sex. He wouldn’t. "The guy must have coerced Tony out back." Franks was shaking his head so Gibbs asserted, "Damn it, he wouldn’t…Tony doesn't…"

It wasn't often Gibbs was at a loss for words, but he felt as though everything was unraveling, and he stopped to grasp at the threads before it got any worse. He knew that Tony doled out sexual favors whenever his father directed him to, but he was damned sure that Tony wouldn’t do it of his own volition. Why would he? For fun…for some extra cash? No, no way, Gibbs thought, but the investigator side of him began to think back to see if he'd missed something. Gibbs started to go over everything that Tony had told him when he'd driven him away from the police station that night. "He was there for a swim meet–"

Franks shook his head, a sympathetic look in his eyes. "Yesterday, when Tony was talking with Jenny during the Parrish investigation, he mentioned how you picked him up after a swimming competition on Friday night. That was when you drove all the way to Brewer to bail the kid out of the police custody, wasn't it?"

"They only held him because he didn't have any ID. He hadn't done anything wrong," Gibbs protested. He remembered seeing Tony sitting in the cell, scared and a bit bruised, and then the defiant way he had tried to act casually, as if he had never really been worried. Gibbs frowned and asked abruptly, "Why'd Jenny tell you what she'd talked about with Tony?"

"After I saw the photo of Tony with his dad and realized who he was, I asked Jenny what the kid had talked to her about. On a hunch I had her track down OSU's swim team coach this morning. Coach Aronson says that Tony never got on the bus, never showed up for the meet, which he said was a damned shame, because Tony showed promise. The coach complained that the kid's father kept flying his son back home, and Tony had missed so many practices and meets that next time the coach saw him he was going to tell Tony he was off the team."

And if Tony hadn't ended up in South Brewer because of the swim team, what the hell was he doing there? "Brewer's a three-hour ride from Ohio State. How did he get there if not by bus with the team?" Gibbs mused aloud. He turned on Franks and demanded, "And why the hell are you looking into Tony's movements?"

"Because I found out the kid's been lying to you, Gibbs," Franks said, raising his voice.

"No! He wouldn't lie to me."

"For God's sake, Gibbs, he's the son of Anthony DiNozzo! According to the FBI, the bastard's been offering his own kid to his clients for years, as some kind of perverted reward for the men he wheels and deals with." Franks stabbed his forefinger on the table and shouted, "That boy has been leading you around by the nose from the first moment he met you! Or maybe it's by the dick, but the result's the same, Probie. He's a con artist, same as his old man, and this time his mark was you, a federal agent with information he wanted access to."

"No," Gibbs said in such a low voice it was almost a whisper. Then louder, he said, "No!"

Franks ran a hand over his face and said in a slightly lower tone, "Don't you find it the least bit coincidental that within days of you calling DiNozzo Sr. to ask him about the disappearance of Seaman Jacobs, that DiNozzo's kid just happens to get in trouble not too far from DC? And that you're the one he turns to for help? That he conned you into picking him up, and how he ended up staying at your house all weekend?"

Gibbs was afraid, damned afraid, that Franks might be right because deep down a small part of him was beginning to have some doubts. Tony had admitted that his father had been very upset about Gibbs' latest phone call, when Gibbs had practically accused Senior of having something to do with the kidnapping and murders of American servicemen. Once DiNozzo Sr. became fearful that Gibbs had connected him to the man they suspected of being the serial killer, he could have arranged for his kid – his special, clever son, who was so damned good at sealing those high-rolling deals – to get close to Gibbs. But to what end? To get inside information? To find out what the NCIS agents knew about him and 'Sir', if they had enough on him to bring charges against him?

Or – please let it not be true – had the old man sent his son to sleep with Gibbs in order to blackmail him, to coerce him into looking the other way, or to drop any charges that were made?

Gibbs didn't doubt for one minute that DiNozzo would send his son out to get close to a federal agent, but would Tony do what his father ordered him to do? No, he wouldn’t…not Tony. Jesus! Gibbs stared at the floor and tried to find something – anything – to refute his suspicions. Cold sweat trickled down Gibbs' back at the thoughts running through his mind, and there was pain in his chest that felt as though his heart was breaking.

Tony had made it all seem so easy, so wonderful. Gibbs had fallen for Tony – he'd fallen for his ploys, his sweet smiles, believed in him, and his stories of abuse, for God's sake. He had been conned and manipulated by an eighteen-year-old kid and he'd loved every minute of it.

All along Gibbs had ignored the niggling question in the back of his mind, the one that he refused to ask himself: why would a beautiful young man like Tony go home with him and have sex – make love – with a grouchy old man like him? What could Tony possibly see in him?

Gibbs was reeling with self-doubt but some part of him clung to the hope that this was all untrue, that he'd misinterpreted the situation, that it was all a terrible misunderstanding. No, Tony would not lie to him. He would not hurt him, not on purpose. Gibbs was sure of that. He'd get Tony in here, and he would explain it all to Franks, and then they'd both see it in Tony's eyes that he was telling the truth. "I'll get Tony in here. He'll tell you–" Gibbs started for the door but Franks stopped him with a hand on his arm.

"Wait, Gunny. You need to–." He urged Gibbs back to the table and then his hand dropped away from his arm. Slowly, Franks pulled a photo out of one of the folders and placed it in front of Gibbs. "You need to see this."

It was a daytime photo of DiNozzo Sr., this time with a young man at his side outside a hotel. "That's Tony," Gibbs said, his voice almost a whisper. The older man had his hand wrapped around the youth's upper arm, and even in the slightly grainy surveillance photo it was obvious his grip was brutal. The expression on Tony's face was a combination of stubbornness and something that might have been either pain or fear. "What is this? Where was it taken?"

"Outside the Excelsior Grand in DC," Franks said, apologetically.

Never taking his eyes off the photo, Gibbs asked, almost afraid of the answer, "When?"

"Two days ago. They flew into DC, Friday at noon. The FBI agent logged it in on the back."

Gibbs stared at the photo of Tony and his father, his heart pounding loudly in his ears. Tony was in DC on Friday. With his father. It was true, then; he was never at the swim team meet. He hadn't missed his bus. Tony had been trolling a damn bar for customers. Gibbs thought he was going to be sick.

Franks moved close and got right in Gibbs' face. "Get your head on straight, Probie. You're of no use to me like this! Take the kid into interrogation and get to the bottom of it, and then get the hell back to work. You've got one hour.

Gibbs stood there trying to swallow the bile in his throat but then got a grip on himself and nodded. "I'll need the files." Franks handed them over and Gibbs left the conference room. Once outside he stopped in the men's room to splash some water on his face. When he caught his reflection in the mirror he saw a terrible look in his eyes, one that he hadn't seen since he'd learned that his wife and child had been murdered, and it shocked him. How could he have gotten in so deep in such a short amount of time? How the hell had he been taken in, like some lovesick teen? He'd been conned and manipulated, and he'd broken enough rules in the NCIS rulebook that he deserved to be tossed out on his ear. How had this happened? Fuck! Gibbs slammed his hand against the bathroom's unforgiving cement-block wall. He felt the jarring pain all the way up to his shoulder but he didn't care. How had he been so stupid to let down his guard like that?

He knew the answer: he'd been taken by a pro. Taken, lock, stock, and barrel by a whore who, despite his youth, was very, very good at his game, and he had been a willing victim from the very first moment he met Tony DiNozzo Jr. It seemed as though Senior, the sick fuck of a bastard, was right – his boy was indeed special.

Gibbs took a deep breath, pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and placed a call to Burley out in the bullpen.

*** end chapter 23***

* * *


	24. Rope

Gibbs stood alone in the observation room and watched Tony through the one-way glass. The young man was meandering around the small interrogation room, his hands stuffed in his jeans pockets, apparently unconcerned that Agent Burley had ordered him to wait there without any further direction. Gibbs caught Tony surreptitiously eyeing the small camera mounted high on the wall in one corner, and knew he was scoping the place out. The camera was currently turned off and Gibbs had no intention of recording their conversation.

Gibbs burned with anger at Tony's betrayal of his trust, but he tried not to allow his emotions to overcome his reason. Even so, when he watched Tony stretch his arms in the air, lean to one side and crack his spine, Gibbs knew that he still cared for Tony and even felt an ache of desire for him. Apparently that was something that Gibbs could not simply turn off. The likelihood that Tony didn't return his regard bothered Gibbs, and hurt him deeply too. To give of himself to someone and to expose his feelings was not something Gibbs did lightly, and finding out that their short but bright affair had been based upon a lie was hard to swallow.

Ever since the first moment he'd seen Tony, and had caught a whiff of his expensive coffee-scented suntan lotion, Gibbs' world had pitched and rolled like a twenty-two-foot Amigo in heavy seas. It wasn't any great mystery why he'd been drawn to Tony in the first place. The young man was damned attractive and personable, but it was that contradictory mix of smarts and vulnerability, along with those long-winded stories of his that were peppered with film references and told with a broad grin, that intrigued Gibbs. And then there was Tony's enthusiasm when they had sex, at variance with the boy's belief that he deserved corporal punishment – which Gibbs still didn't comprehend. And Tony's soft pleas for love, his sweet smiles and moans of delight, and the way his submissive side emerged when Gibbs topped him – all these things added up to form the Tony who Gibbs had fallen in love with.

Timing may have had something to do with it, too. Gibbs didn't like to admit it, but he was just as vulnerable as anyone else, in his own way. He had sought someone to fill the void that Shannon's death had brought about, and meeting Tony when he had, seemed fortuitous. It wasn't like Gibbs to blindly follow his base senses – his lust – without thinking things through first, but that's exactly what had happened since the moment Tony had called him. Gibbs was a by-the-book kind of guy, who had adored his wife and child and had only just survived the crisis of their violent deaths. With Tony around Gibbs was no less aware of the loss of his family, but Tony had helped him to believe that he could be close to someone once again, without too much guilt. For that alone he was grateful.

Now Gibbs was torn between storming into interrogation and forcing the damned truth out of Tony, and sitting down with him and calmly asking a few pertinent questions. Gibbs was sure he wasn't going to like what Tony was going to tell him, but one way or another, he was going to get to the bottom of it.  He had to know why Tony had called him in the first place, and if DiNozzo Sr. was behind his son's actions.

If there was a scheme to coerce Gibbs to drop Senior's name from the list of suspects in the kidnapping and murder case, someone didn't know him very well. They – meaning Senior and Senator Harding – had picked the wrong man to threaten because there was no way Gibbs was going to fold under pressure. He'd fight hard to retain his job and his good name, and if push came to shove he'd take great pleasure in matching DiNozzo Sr., blow for blow. If they accused him for having homosexual relations with Tony, well, Gibbs would accept the consequences of his actions. Although the resulting stigma and the destruction of his career would hit him hard if it came to light that he'd slept with Tony, Gibbs would never yield to their demands in order to save himself. 

Nobody had threatened him yet, so Gibbs wasn't going to borrow trouble. His first concern was to discover why Tony had lied to him about traveling with the OSU swim team to North Brewer, and to find out what had motivated the teen to ask for Gibbs' help when the cops had picked him up. Had it all been a lie, the shared affection, the intimacy, the gestures of love? Had Tony been faking it every time they had made love? Had he been using sex to get close to Gibbs? It was certainly possible; Tony had been trained by his father to put out for strangers in order to close a deal. What was one more john in a long line of calculated seductions orchestrated by Senior?

But Gibbs could not believe that it was possible for Tony to be so calculating. He'd felt Tony's love – surely he hadn't imagined or misinterpreted those feelings – not the warm expression in Tony's eyes when he was hugging him in the kitchen, or when he was laughing over a midnight cup of cocoa in bed, or when Tony was writhing under Gibbs in the throes of passion. Gibbs couldn’t believe, _would not_ _accept_ , that it had all been one big act played out for the sole purpose of obtaining information, or for setting him up for blackmail.

Now there was no point in standing around guessing and second-guessing Tony's motives. Gibbs had to go and confront him, get answers out of him just as he would with any suspect. Seek the facts, confirm them and find solid proof – that was the way to proceed.

Tony walked up to the mirror and raised one hand to his hair. He standing only inches away from Gibbs, with nothing but the glass separating them, yet was apparently unaware of their proximity. Tony smoothed down some wayward spikes of hair on his crown before raising his chin to inspect his bruised neck in the mirrored surface. The purple finger marks showed up in the bright lights of the interrogation room, stark evidence of the choke-hold someone had on Tony, only a couple of days ago.

Tony pulled his shirt away from his neck and gingerly peeled the square of gauze away from his skin to reveal the purple-and-red bite mark that his lover – Gibbs – had given him when he'd sunk his teeth into the smooth, tanned skin, only last night. On the other side of the glass, Tony gently touched the edge of the livid mark and winced.

Gibbs' stomach clenched at the sight of the wound but his cynical side raised doubts as to Tony's motivation. If he didn't know any better, Gibbs would have said that Tony was aware that his lover was on the other side of the two-way mirror, and that Tony was exposing the nasty bite mark to remind his soon-to-be-interrogator that he, too, was a victim in this game.

Gibbs didn't wait any longer. Leaving the observation room, he locked the door behind him to keep anyone from eavesdropping then strode along the corridor the few feet to the interrogation room. He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders and entered.

*

Tony turned to greet Gibbs and his face lit up as stepped forward. "Jethro! Stan told me to wait here and I wondered where you were, if something had happened to–"

Gibbs interrupted him and ordered sternly, "Sit down." He was torn between wanting to hug Tony and alternately give him a good shake. Instead of doing either he walked directly to the table that was bolted down in the center of the room and said gruffly, "We need to talk." He almost laughed at himself, knowing that if Shannon had ever heard those words coming out of his mouth she probably would have fainted in disbelief.

Gibbs ignored Tony's surprised look, and ordered, "Sit down. We haven't got all day." Once Tony was seated, Gibbs sat opposite him, keeping his back parade-ground straight and his eyes focused on the files he dumped on the table in front of him. Gibbs studiously avoided looking at Tony, and opened the top folder even though he could tell that the teen was frowning worriedly. After a prolonged couple of minutes in which Tony shifted in his chair, fiddled with his hair, and seemed to be on the brink of saying something several times – although he never actually spoke – Gibbs finally looked up and met Tony's questioning gaze head on.

"This is not an official interview. There are no cameras, no recording devices. This is just you and me. You will tell me the truth."

Tony looked taken aback at Agent Gibbs' cold and steady tone. A flicker of apprehension crossed his features but he said, "I won't lie to you, Jethro."

"Agent Gibbs," Gibbs said sternly.

"What?" It took a moment before Tony's lips parted slightly in comprehension. "Oh." He peered at Gibbs' face and then exhaled an unsteady breath. "Oh. I see." Gibbs waited and then Tony shook himself and said quickly, "Yes, of course. I won't lie to you – Agent Gibbs."

It bothered Gibbs to be there on the other side of the table from Tony, to be interrogating him. Because that's what it was, an interrogation, no matter how much he'd like to think of it as a fact-finding mission. The problem was that until he proved otherwise, Tony was a suspect, and it pained Gibbs greatly to treat him as one. But Gibbs had a lot of experience questioning people, and he was good at finding their weaknesses and exploiting them in order to find out the facts. Normally he didn't care about a perp's motives, because that wasn't part of his job unless it related directly to their apprehension or building a case, but this time he believed it was an important part of the puzzle. Gibbs planned to use all of the skills at his disposal to get to the bottom of whatever was going on with Tony, and all he could do was hope that there was a good explanation for Tony's behavior.

Without any preamble, Gibbs asked, "How did you end up at a strip club called Honey Bunny's, in South Brewer, on Friday night?"

Whatever Tony had been expecting, apparently it was not that question. Tony hesitated only slightly, and if Gibbs hadn't been watching for signs of deception, he might not have caught it. With a shrug, Tony said, "I wanted to see the strip show with my teammates but they backed out. I went alone."

Gibbs slammed his hand down on the table, startling Tony enough to make him jump in his chair. "That wasn't what I asked. How did you get there? Did you take a bus? Walk? Maybe you were driven there in a limo."

Tony sat there with wide eyes, realization written all over his face, his shoulders hunched up high, but within a couple of seconds all signs of an intimidated, unsure youth disappeared and Gibbs found himself faced with a virtual stranger. Tony straightened in his chair, his chin went up, and his expression adjusted to present a cool, indifferent mask. "You seem to know exactly what happened…Agent Gibbs." Tony raised an eyebrow and waved a hand in invitation. "Why don't you tell me how I got there?" 

Gibbs looked into Tony's green eyes, hoping to see something – anything – of the boy he loved, but his heart sank when nothing of his Tony could be found. My God, who the hell was this young man with the distant, impersonal attitude? Was this who Tony really was, a cold and calculating product of his father's genes? Gibbs almost rose from his seat in order to pull Tony into his arms, to draw the Tony he knew out of this horrible, cold shell, to feel his warmth against his body, to bring him to his senses, but reason took precedence. Instead he stared at the file on the table and forced himself to regain control. When Gibbs raised his head again, his expression was schooled, a neutral but hard mask that rivaled Tony's. When Tony gave an almost imperceptible flinch, Gibbs felt a bitter twinge of satisfaction and more than a little relief. Maybe his boy was still in there somewhere.

Gibbs slapped a photo on the table in front of Tony; it was the one of DiNozzo Sr. gripping his son's arm outside the Excelsior Grand. "Friday, early afternoon. You flew in from New York with your father. You were still in DC when your swimming Buckeyes were going for the championship. Musta been tough knowing your college buddies were out there proving themselves and you were missing your chance because Daddy wouldn’t let you play in the pool with the other kids." Gibbs kept his eyes on Tony as he spoke, gauging his reaction. Tony's eyes were on the photo, his lips compressed, but he didn't respond to Gibbs' jibes, so Gibbs upped the ante a little. "I'll bet there've been lots of other times you've missed out on games because Senior calls you home. Your old man thinks your choice of college is embarrassing. He despises you for being a dumb jock and he doesn't think twice about using you to service his high-end clients."

Tony kept his head lowered but his eyes snapped up and he sent Gibbs a glare that was so seething with hatred that the special agent was momentarily unnerved.

"You haven't got a clue," Tony uttered through clenched teeth.

Gibbs knew he'd hit the mark but although he regretted the need to push Tony hard in order to get him to open up, he had to get it done fast; they didn't have much time. Gibbs was left to wonder if Tony's strong feelings were entirely directed at DiNozzo Sr. for exploiting him so ruthlessly, or if some of that hatred was targeted at Gibbs for giving him the third degree. Their eyes were locked together, neither man giving an inch, and then Tony blinked a few times, visibly retracted his emotions, and relaxed.

"I've got it wrong? Maybe you prefer sucking on strangers' dicks to hanging out with your frat brothers," Gibbs sneered. Tony's reaction was to shove the photo across the tabletop towards Gibbs, a look of disgust on his face, but he didn't reply. He crossed his arms over his chest and turned his head away, refusing to look his interrogator in the face.

Gibbs continued, "According to the concierge at the Excelsior Grand Hotel, your father uses a driver whenever he's in DC. The limo driver who took you and your father to South Brewer on Friday says he dropped you off there around six. Your swim coach says that you did not travel to the meet with the other kids and, by the way, he wants me to tell you he's throwing you off the team." Tony's head jerked around to face Gibbs. Gibbs got no satisfaction from the brief look of hurt and disappointment in Tony's eyes. Tony loved his sports and losing a place on the team must hurt him more than any of the insults Gibbs was throwing in his direction.

"You seem to know more than I do, Agent Gibbs," Tony said, sending Gibbs a blank-eyed, bored look. "You're the interrogator; you can be quite intimidating when you want to be. Isn't it part of your technique to inflict pain as part of the interrogation process? Yeah, I read that in one of your official manuals upstairs." Tony leaned forward in his seat and hissed, "Too bad for you that I enjoy receiving pain, to feel the burn, the sharp sting that becomes pleasure. Or maybe not, because we both know how much you like to dispense pain, don't we, Jethro? It must be hard separating your work from your emotions. Besides, I know how this works. An innocent man being interrogated will rant and rave as time goes on, and the longer you keep him in here, the more he'll rage at the injustice of it all. It's the guilty who are quiet; they calculate what you might know, what you've got up your sleeve. They worry about what you might do to them. But me? I'm a wild card. These techniques won't work with me because I'm neither innocent nor guilty. I'm a willing victim – of my father's sexual predilection and of your infatuation with me. So you ask your fucking questions, Agent Gibbs, and see where they get you. Speed up that metronome like Jimmy Stewart did when Farley Granger's playing the piano in 'Rope'."

Gibbs glared at Tony while he took some deep breaths in order to subdue an extremely intense desire to smack the back of Tony's head – hard. God, he wished he'd thought to bring some coffee in with him. "You were in the club for about two hours," he said evenly, as if Tony hadn't spoken. "You were asked to leave when the management caught you propositioning one of the customers."

Tony stared at Gibbs for a moment and then a slow, provocative smile appeared. Gibbs did not like the look of it at all. Leaning back in his chair, Tony said, with a wicked gleam in his eye, "I gave a blow-job to the manager in the men's room soon after I got there. The big guy at the door? He offered to take me home so he could tie me up and whip me; I took his phone number so I can call him when I leave here. And the happy-hour customer – the one at the bar? He was all over me, wanted a dirty fuck out in the alley, and we were in the middle of having a real good time, with his huge hot dick shoving up my ass…" Tony leaned back in his chair, cupped his groin and rocked his hips suggestively. "Man, I was screaming his name when those muggers turned up, and they wanted to party, too," Tony said with a kind of glee that had a terrible, brittle edge to it. "Maybe you should write that down, there in your notes, Agent Gibbs. Just to be accurate. We wouldn't want you to get your facts wrong now, would we?"

Gibbs felt everything from jealousy to white-hot anger burning through him, and he desired nothing more at that moment than to slam Tony facedown on the hard interrogation room table and fuck his brains out in order to show him that Leroy Jethro Gibbs was the only one who would ever fuck his ass, and then he would spank Tony until his backside was burning bright red and he was screaming for mercy – which he was not about to get – for being such a fucking little prick. Instead of acting on his impulse, Gibbs managed to bite out the words, "You never fuck and suck out of the goodness of your heart, do you, so these little encounters must have been for cash, right?"

Tony crossed his arms across his chest and smiled at Gibbs, baring a lot of teeth, uncannily reminiscent of his father. "No, I never do it for pleasure, Agent Gibbs. It's against my father's rules. And you know all about rules, don't you, Gunny? Stan told me about the one that goes, 'Don't believe what you're told. Always double-check.' Maybe you should listen to your own advice." Licking his lips lasciviously, Tony rubbed his thumbs in small circles around his nipples and gave a low moan. Gibbs, fascinated, watched Tony's nipples harden and form little peaks under the thin cotton t-shirt, and he almost choked. Tony said with exaggerated innocence, "I'll just bet you want another taste of this, don't you? If you don't have cash, sir, I'll accept credit."

***end chapter 24***


	25. The Weak Link

 

Gibbs leaned across the table to grab Tony's wrists, preventing him from making any more lewd gestures, and growled, "Do not play games with me, because you will not win." Tony glared right back and struggled futilely against the hold on his wrists until Gibbs increased his grip and warned, "You hard of hearing?"

Tony gave up fighting Gibbs' hold on him. Instead he leaned forward and demanded, "Are you enjoying this, Agent Gibbs? Playing the big bad Marine?" He licked his lips while looking at Gibbs' mouth as if it was something sweet he was dying to sink his teeth into. "You want me to play the sailor boy for you, to wear some tight white pants that show off my ass?" He leered at Gibbs and said suggestively, "Maybe you'd like to watch me pole dancing half-naked at Honey Bunny's instead of those girls. Hey, we could join in a threesome with the bouncer, back at his place, and you can take your turn at whipping me. Bet that'll get your rocks off."

"You said weren't gonna lie to me," Gibbs accused through clenched teeth.

The smile on Tony's face disappeared as if it had never been there, and he countered, "I didn't lie!" Gibbs continued to glare at him but after a prolonged battle of wills, Tony relented and said stiffly, "I didn't lie, not about how I feel about you. You promised but it looks like you've already forgotten that." There was a sad, disappointed look in Tony's eyes when he said, "I hoped…I thought you were different, Jethro."

Gibbs remembered how earlier Tony had made him promise not to forget that – no matter what – Tony really did love him. What they'd come to mean to each other had somehow become buried under their harsh words and knee-jerk responses. With a start Gibbs realized his fingers were still wrapped tightly around Tony's wrists, and he knew there would be bruises. He loosened his hold but didn't let go, afraid that if he lost this physical connection that Tony would also be lost to him.

"I remember everything, but you seem to have forgotten who you are," Gibbs said gruffly, wondering how they'd gone from being passionate and loving, to jumping down each other's throats so damned fast. "That foul-mouthed kid who wants me to believe that he's fucking every man who looks his way? That person is not you. You're better than that little prick. I don't care that your father tried to change you into a whore to suit his purposes – I know that inside of you is a decent young man. It's time for you to choose the right road; you can't serve two masters."

Tony jerked his wrists out of Gibbs' grip and folded his arms across his chest, a flush blossoming upon his cheeks. "What is this, Special Agent Gibbs, some kind of intervention? If you think I'm a messed-up case that needs fixing? You're hardly the guy to measure up to. I mean, look at you! You can't even deal with your own problems."

"What the hell're you talking about?"

"Pacci says you're at work 'til midnight most nights, and everyone knows that when you finally do go home you spend all your time in the basement, working on your boat. I understand it, I really do, that you lost your family, and how deep the hurt goes, and how you think you'll never get over it. But you've lost something of yourself, too, Jethro, because you're choking on their memories instead of living with them."

Gibbs stared at Tony. "What?"

"I know about your wife and–"

"You know nothing," Gibbs ground out, his anger rising. Nobody could know, not Tony, not anyone. "Shut up," he ordered.

But Tony wouldn't let it go. "You can't bear to have a single photo of them in sight, or hear their names spoken aloud, or sleep in your own bedroom. That room we slept in, it used to be the guest room, didn't it? Your wife's death left you all twisted up inside, and you went through the motions, but all the time you could only think of her. And then I landed in your lap and your whole way of life was turned upside down, your gay side decided to come out, and I made you forget. Yeah, I was willing, more than willing, to be your lover, and I know you enjoyed every minute of our time together, but I'll bet that the other side of you – the straight, federal agent, Mr. Tough-guy Marine side – hates that you can't stop those feelings."

"I don't hate–." He didn't hate Tony, or anything they'd done together. Hell, he'd loved how he'd felt when making love to Tony, and the reactions he'd been able to draw out of him, the boy's every nuanced move and raw, open emotion, adding to a joy he'd only dreamed of. God, it was indescribable. But here was Tony, suggesting Gibbs felt guilty about their affair, about having sex with a man – a very young man – and Gibbs was honest enough with himself to admit that it was partially true. His guilt and confusion had nothing to do with his recently deceased wife though. He still loved Shannon, and would always love her, no matter what, but he needed and expected was to find companionship, to be touched, and perhaps even to love and be loved, once again. "I never thought it would be with…"

"With another man?" Tony prompted.

Maybe it was his age or the way he was brought up, but if a man leaned towards other men as bed-partners, it wasn't the kind of thing you talked about or, if you were Leroy Jethro Gibbs, the kind of thing you even thought about. If he leaned that way, engaging in sex with men, then there wasn't much he could do about it. "I didn't choose to be this way, but I can live with it," he said, knowing even as the words slipped out that they were all wrong. Gibbs took a breath and said impatiently, "I'm sure as hell not gonna shout it from the rooftops."

"No, you're going to hide it, tell yourself it's an aberration, a temporary thing that you'll get over. It didn't mean anything, right? Just sex with some kid who latched onto you." Tony asked incredulously, "And you're trying to tell me who Ishould be? The way I should live? Your whole way of life is based on lies, Jethro." Tony shook his head. "I don't think you even know who you are."

"Maybe I don't know why I did what I did, but I ain't gonna lie about enjoying it," Gibbs replied brusquely, annoyed that he was being told off, being made to face some truths he'd rather ignore. He thought how the past weekend had been a real eye-opener, and that he was likely to be wondering about what had made him become so attached to Tony, and so quickly, for a long time to come. "I know this much: you're a smart kid, with a good future, and a chance at a decent life, if only you get the hell out from under your father's rule. And yeah, I'm no prize," he admitted. "If I die tomorrow they're sure to have a hard time scraping together enough volunteers willing to act as my pallbearers, but at least I'll know I did my damned best to do some good while I was alive and kicking. I know I've made a difference in this world." Gibbs glowered and insisted, "And I'm not gay."

Tony raised his eyebrows skeptically. "Okaaaay, so you're bi. Semantics."

"I don't look at men that way," Gibbs protested.

"Oh, right…that must have been someone else's fat dick jammed up my ass," Tony said flippantly, making Gibbs want to smack his head. "So you don't give a shit about me, is what you're saying? I was just a poor substitute for your girlfriend, what's-her-name, Joan." At Gibbs' thunderous expression, Tony grinned and said, "Oh, wait! Have I got that backwards?" He held up a hand, laughing aloud. "Don't tell me, when you enjoyed back-door sex with her you fantasized she was a boy? That you were reaming me?" Tony's grin faded as a thought registered. "Shit, you're gonna make up with her, aren't you, once I've gone?"

"No, I'm not," Gibbs said, affronted.

Tony continued as if Gibbs hadn't spoken. "You're hoping to make your house a happy home again, with her. Well, I'll tell you something, Jethro-in-denial-Gibbs, I hope every time you fuck her you see me, and I hope it hurts like hell!"

Gibbs looked into Tony's flashing green eyes and clearly saw the vulnerable young man behind the aggressive facade he was presenting. The boy's attitude, his demeanor, his angry words were all lies, a false front raised as a shield against the world – against Gibbs. Tony was pretty damned good at it, too, and some of his barbs had hit their target dead on. Tony was striking out like a wounded animal because he had believed in Gibbs, and it appeared that Gibbs didn’t trust him, didn't love him any more – maybe had never cared for him at all.

It was so far from the truth that it Gibbs almost laughed but instead he shook his head and said softly, "No, you're wrong. So wrong."

"What then? You're going to look for another man?"

It had never entered his mind to go back to Joan, or to seek another woman, nor man for that matter. There was only one person Gibbs wanted, and that was Tony. "No, you messed it up." Gibbs shrugged ruefully. "I could never…not with anyone else. Not after you. I don't look at men, Tony. I only look at you." It was the first time since he'd entered the interrogation room that Gibbs had used Tony's name, and from the way the young man regarded him intently, he was well aware of its importance.

Tony's eyes widened with hope and he asked, "Only me? You mean that?"

Gibbs delivered a mental slap to the back of his own head for being an idiot. He should have known better, letting his emotions rule his common sense, and for approaching Tony with a heavy hand. The boy needed a gentle touch to bring out the best in him; he'd been abused and taken advantage of for years and yet he'd latched onto Gibbs right away, as if he'd finally found his savior. After the way they'd been sniping at each other, Gibbs was afraid he was perilously close to losing Tony, and that was something he couldn't risk. He'd made a big mistake and now he had to fix it.

"Isn't that what I said?" Gibbs asked, a smile twitching the corner of his mouth when he saw Tony's whole face light up.

God, he should have trusted his gut when he'd been certain that there was no way that his Tony had engaged in sex with anyone at the club, no matter what the angry young man had claimed he'd done. The strip club's bouncer had said that Tony had left before he'd had a chance to pick up any of the customers, and Mike Franks had verified that statement. Ever since Franks had shown Gibbs evidence that Tony had come to DC with his father, the specter of doubt had reared its ugly head, along with the fear that he'd been wrong about Tony. Now Gibbs understood that just because Tony had lied about the circumstances that had landed him in South Brewer, and into police custody, it did not mean he'd lied about anything since Gibbs had rescued him.

"I want to work this out, whatever this is between us, Tony, but right now I've got to deal with other things first," Gibbs said evenly, watching Tony rub his wrists, which bore evidence of Gibbs' rough treatment. He had to get back to business, no matter that he wanted to take Tony in his arms and show him exactly how much he wanted him. "I know your father and his pal are somehow involved in the missing and murdered seamen, and I aim to prove it." Tony tried to appear disinterested so Gibbs urged, "You know they're guilty, too. You can't cover up for your father; this is the end of the line for him. It's time you face up to the fact that you've been playing for the wrong team."

"You think I don't know he's involved? That I need to get out?" Tony shook his head, frustrated, and said, "For years I've been doing whatever crap my father tells me to do. I've been a good boy, I've done everything he's told me to do, tried my best just to please him, to get him to love me, even if it was just a little bit, but nothing I did ever made any difference! Can you understand what it's been like, knowing how much my own father hates me? You have no idea what I've done for him even when I knew it was wrong…and I can't…I can't do it any more, Jethro. I've known that ever since I met you last summer – everything's been different. Don't you think I've been trying to get away from that life? Because, believe me, it sucks big time. Why do you think I chose to go halfway across the country to Ohio State?"

"Then begin by telling me why, Tony."

Tony seemed puzzled at Gibbs' question. "Why what? Why'd my father dump me in that town? Why do I have sex with strangers? Why, out of all the people in the world, did I call on you to rescue me?" He paused and mumbled, "That has to be a line from a movie…" Tony shook himself and said to Gibbs, "Well I've got some questions for you as well. How about: why did you come running when I called?" He looked straight at Gibbs' face when he asked that particular question. "I mean, I hope that it was 'cause you cared for me that you took me back to your home…or was it only about the sex?"

"Damn it, Tony," Gibbs protested in a rough voice. "Of course I care about you."

"Well, what am I supposed to think, considering the way you've treating me as if I'm some kind of two-bit criminal since you came in here?"

"I'm not–!" Gibbs calmed himself and said, "I want the truth, Tony. Why'd your father leave you there?"

Tony snorted, but when he spoke it was with disillusionment rather than anger. "You think the truth'll set me free? Veritas vos liberabit."

Gibbs replied with patience he didn't know he had. "Believe me, I know that the truth can be tough to swallow sometimes, but we need to trust in each other, Tony. I'm here for you and I'm not going anywhere." He could at least offer Tony that much, and hope that if there was just one steady person in Tony's life, it would be him. Gibbs knew that Tony needed more than words so he rose from his seat, walked around the table, and perched one hip on its surface, facing Tony. He reached out a hand towards Tony's head and when the young man flinched, Gibbs' stomach turned over. Tony couldn’t possibly think he'd strike him, could he? Gibbs waited only a couple of seconds and then ran his fingers through Tony's hair, stroking him with gentle, even motions. God, just touching Tony, feeling the soft, silky hair, made Gibbs grow hot with desire.

Tony shivered and hesitated, and then leaned into the caress, closing his eyes as if it was all too much. He bowed his head when Gibbs squeezed the back of his neck affectionately. Gibbs said in a low tone, "I was wrong to make assumptions." He moved his hand to Tony's cheek, cupping it, and then put a couple of fingers under Tony's chin, encouraging him to raise his face. Tony's eyelashes fluttered on his cheeks and he opened his eyes; Gibbs found the hurt expression in their green depths hard to take. "I told you I wasn't going to lock that door, Tony, and I meant it. My door's always open to you."

Tony looked hopeful, and said, his voice cracking with emotion, "It didn't take much for you to think the worst of me, Jethro. How could you think I'd do anything to hurt you?" He shook his head, clearly disillusioned.

Tony was right; he'd been too quick to believe that Tony had insinuated himself into his life solely on his father's orders. Seeing the photo of Tony and his dad that placed him in DC on Friday afternoon, and hearing Mike Franks insist that DiNozzo Sr. had been using his son to corrupt a federal agent, had made Gibbs lose his faith. Nevertheless, Gibbs had had doubts when Franks had tried to convince him that Tony had been using him. He hadn't wanted to believe that the sweet, flirty, loving Tony was really that manipulative hustler who'd boasted of his back-alley sexual exploits with vicious glee. "I didn't want to believe it, Tony. That's why we're here, so you can tell me what's been going on." His hand lowered to rest on Tony's shoulder and he gave it a squeeze of encouragement.

Tony regarded Gibbs warily, and then suddenly he sighed and his shoulders slumped. "Okay," he said quietly. "I'll tell you." He swallowed hard and then said tiredly, "My father ordered me to meet up with the swim team, to miss the bus, and to call you for help. Ever since you phoned him a couple of weeks ago he's been scared you were going to charge him with kidnapping or worse. But…but he had another reason to use me to get to you."

Gibbs waited to hear the rest of it, but when Tony sat there staring at his hands, he prompted, "What was the reason?"

"His friend…the guy I told you about…"

"The man who told you to call him Sir?" He didn't say, ' _The man who raped you, Tony, the bastard I'm gonna gut when we finally meet_ ,' but even so, Gibbs swore the man wouldn't get away with what he'd done.

Tony nodded and chewed on his bottom lip. He looked up at Gibbs at that point with a plea for forgiveness in his eyes for what he was about to say. "My father said he'd do anything to prevent you Navy cops from hurting his friend, from sending both of them to prison. So he sent me to find out what I could from you and…and he made me…"

Gibbs felt his heart go cold with dread. "What did he make you do, Tony?"

Tony blinked and he looked slightly away when he admitted, the words spilling out fast, "He said I should have sex with you and to get evidence of it so he could blackmail you, that ever since he saw us by the pool last summer he said he knew you could be corrupted, that every man had a weak link."

Gibbs said nothing for a long while, and it wasn't until Tony's gaze met his, full or remorse, that Gibbs said sourly, "Every man has a weak link, if you can find it."

Tony said quietly, "I told him you you'd never go for it, that you were stronger than he was. You're a good man."

But he had gone for it. He had given in to temptation because it was Tony being offered to him on a plate, and after just one meeting, one taste of his lips, Gibbs had developed a craving for more. Gibbs wondered, almost idly, if Tony had recorded any of their conversations, if he had somehow managed to take photos of them in the act. Tony had already proven himself to be handy with gadgets; he may have used a hidden camera or other surveillance equipment. "So you were the bait, and I took it, hook line and sinker." It crossed Gibbs' mind that if he was going down for having sexual relations with Tony, at least they'd enjoyed themselves while it had lasted.

***end chapter 25***


	26. Believing

"Yeah, I was the bait and you took it. Except…" Tony angled his head and ran his fingertips back and forth along the edge of the table, following the motion of his hand with his eyes. "Except…I didn't…"

"Didn't what?" Gibbs knew he sounded harsh but he couldn’t prevent his anger from bleeding out a little. Only he wasn't angry with Tony – Gibbs was white-hot mad at how, between Senior and his buddy Senator Kingston Harding, the two men had managed to systematically abuse and corrupt and twist a damned good kid into a tool to do their dirty work for them.

DiNozzo Sr. must have been pretty desperate, and guilty, to risk sending Tony to seduce a federal agent. The plan had been a long shot, because it was far from certain that Gibbs would have come to Tony's rescue, and even if he did, that he would succumb to the kid's charms. On the other hand, Senior had witnessed Gibbs kissing Tony by the pool all those months ago so it was apparent that Gibbs might be open to having a sexual relationship with Tony. At the time Gibbs had known how foolhardy he was to give in to his sudden and intense craving for a taste of Tony, but he'd been unable to deny his desire. Of course it had come back to bite him on the ass. Now Tony had confessed he'd been instrumental in his father's plan to gain some leverage against Gibbs. "You didn't do what?" Gibbs demanded, feeling a bit of an old fool for allowing himself to be taken in.

Tony met Gibbs' eyes and said firmly, "I didn't gather any evidence to use against you. No photos, no recordings, nothing. I…I couldn’t."

Gibbs said nothing for a long moment, wanting to believe Tony, seeking and finding the truth in Tony's eyes. He nodded to show he accepted that Tony's word was true. Just the same, Gibbs had a feeling that something was not quite right. "You spent the weekend with me. We had sex." It came out sounding like an accusation.

"We sure did. The best I ever had." A corner of Tony's mouth rose a little in a hint of a smile, then it slipped away and remorse spread across his features. "I would never do anything to hurt you, Jethro. Never. I just… look, I just wanted to be with you."

Gibbs knew that after his father had dropped him off in South Brewer, Tony had hung out at the strip club for a couple of hours. He'd had plenty of time to phone Gibbs yet he hadn't contacted him until he was cornered, with no way out; being held at the local police station had pretty much forced Tony to call Gibbs to rescue him. But where had Tony planned on going after he left the club, Gibbs wondered? He narrowed his eyes and spoke his thoughts aloud. "You were killing time, sitting at the bar for a couple of hours. You were planning something, weren't you? Except you were mugged and the cops took you into custody and that changed your plans. You had no intention of calling me to come and pick you up from the strip club." Gibbs discovered he was deeply disappointed at the realization.

When Tony's eyes widened in surprise Gibbs knew that he had hit the nail on the head – Tony had never intended to ask him for help. But instead of feeling good about it, Gibbs felt as though he'd been punched in the gut. "Why did you phone me in the end?"

Tony's eyes shied away and he chewed on his bottom lip for a minute but then he looked back at Gibbs and admitted, "When my father left me there I already knew I was never gonna do what he wanted, not ever again. I wasn't going to phone you like Dad ordered me to do, but when the cops took me back to the station they said they'd only release me if a parent came and picked me up." He snorted and said derisively, "As if I was gonna call my dad. You were the only person I knew who might go out of his way for me, and I'd memorized your phone number from the business card you'd given me, so I took a chance…"

Gibbs made a humph sound and crossed his arms. "So why were you propositioning strangers in the strip club?"

"It was only one guy, and nothing _happened_ ," Tony said, rolling his eyes. "We watched the girls doing their acts for a while but mostly we talked sports. There was a game on, on the TV over the bar." He said in a quieter voice, as if he was abashed, "He seemed like a nice enough man, and I…uh…I needed the money."

"Money?"

"My father took away my cell phone and he gave me only enough cash to cover getting into the club, and for a couple of sodas," Tony explained.

So that was why Tony didn't have a cell phone on him, thought Gibbs. Dumped there with no lifeline.

"I was supposed to phone you collect and say I was in trouble, and…Dad thought I'd get to you if I cried, even though I told him tears wouldn’t push your buttons. I mean, even if he only met you briefly, you'd think he'd have a clue."

Tony was wrong – Gibbs _was_ affected by Tony's tears. He remembered, all too well, how it had felt to comfort the distraught young man when they'd sat in his truck and Tony had revealed how his father's best friend had raped him. Gibbs had held Tony in his arms, trying to soothe him, giving him strength by just being there for him. He'd felt such an outpouring of love and a need to protect Tony, and those feelings had grown despite – or because of – everything they'd been through the past couple of days. "I don't like to see you…hurting," Gibbs said, nodding to encourage Tony to continue.

Tony hung his head. "Dad let me keep my fake ID and he gave me a little camera, like the kind you see in Bond movies. To get pictures of us. It takes short videos, too. I was gonna sell the camera to the guy I met at the bar, but before he came outside to finish the deal I got mugged."

"What'd you need the money for?"

"To get back to Ohio State," Tony explained. "I'd missed the team bus already so I figured if I got some cash I could get a taxi as far as the truck stop over on 470, and maybe hitch a ride with a trucker into Columbus. I thought that by the time my father had figured out I'd double-crossed him, I'd be a long way away, and by then I would have come up with a plan. Very 'Planes, Trains and Automobiles,'" Tony said with a grin. "You know, you don't want to get stuck in Wichita."

Gibbs had a feeling that was a movie reference but he didn't ask. "You should have called me as soon as he left you there."

"I couldn’t because…because I knew you'd come if I asked," Tony said. "I didn't want to use you, or lie to you. I didn't want to do any of it, Jethro. I'd already decided to give up the life. I can make it on my own," he said, raising his voice. "I don't need my father for anything! He never wanted me, anyway, and ever since Mom died he didn't even bother to hide the fact."

Gibbs wanted to kill DiNozzo Sr. for wasting the precious opportunity to have a loving relationship with his son, to nurture him and guide him, and to simply be a father to him. The ex-Marine wanted, very badly, to damage Senior for hurting this precious boy, and for letting his own son know that he wasn't wanted. Every time Gibbs learned something new about Senior, yet another mark was struck against the man, another outrage was added to the ever-growing pile of reasons why Gibbs would take him down hard.

In a soft tone, Gibbs rebuked, "You could have come to me, Tony. You can _always_ come to me," he said, to make his point clear.

Tony smiled at that, but being rejected by his father still hurt. "As a kid I dreamed I was a POW, going over the wire, or digging a tunnel to somewhere way outside the prison walls. 'Stalag 17', 'Hogan's Heroes' with Colonel Klink."

For once, Gibbs knew what Tony was talking about. "So the commandant caught on that you were breaking out?"

Tony nodded with a satisfied smile. "Yeah, well, I guess I've been giving him a hard time ever since I started college, but it wasn't until we were in the limo, and he was giving me instructions about what he wanted me to do, that he finally got the picture." Tony touched the bruises on his neck and his eyes took on a faraway look.

Gibbs said abruptly, "Your father choked you."

Tony's hand dropped away from his neck and he turned startled eyes towards Gibbs. "What?"

"Those young muggers never laid a hand on you. Did he give you those bruises?" Gibbs couldn’t say the words, 'your dad,' or he'd choke on them.

For a moment it looked as though Tony wasn't going to reply, but then he flushed and said, "I told him I wouldn’t do it, wouldn’t deceive you but then he…he threatened me and he…" Tony turned his luminous eyes towards Gibbs and said, "He told me if I couldn't make you like me, and if I failed to get something he could use on you this weekend, his friend was going to kill you. Dad says that his friend – Sir – can make people disappear." Tony continued in a monotone voice as if he was reciting what he'd been told. "Dad didn't want you dead because that would mean more Navy cops checking him out and they were sure to find something on him. He said that Sir wasn't scared of the cops, of being found out, but he was out of control, Dad wasn't going to spend a single night in jail, not for anybody. DiNozzo rule number one is to watch your own back because nobody else is gonna watch it for you."

Gibbs thought that he'd have to teach Tony some new rules – some good ones. "That why he double-crossed his best friend and Alonzo Torres? Because he was watching out for his own interests?"

"It was a lot of money, Jethro. He usually gets upwards of ten percent for making a deal, and the cargo was worth millions. Maybe three million on the front end for making the arrangements, and at least the same for selling the freighter's location to the Peruvians. They just had to hijack the freighter and they got the ship and the guns for a small percentage of what it was worth," Tony said, as if the high figures were part of an everyday deal.

"So he gets millions for double-crossing his friend and business partner, but meantime he makes an enemy of the mob? He can't exactly spend his rainy day money when he's dead," Gibbs said with a snort, half hoping Torres got to DiNozzo, knowing the mobster would be ruthless in his revenge and would most likely start on the man's fingers with a bolt cutter.

Tony seemed to be thinking similar thoughts. He wrapped his arms around himself as if he was cold. "Can't spend it in prison, either. I think my father knew it was the end of the line ever since you questioned him again. He was ranting that Sir was crazy and was gonna ruin all his hard work. Dad must know that Sir has been murdering those young men, and he sure as hell doesn't want to go down for it." Tony frowned at Gibbs and then said, as if the thought just struck him, "You know, my father spent the whole flight down here from New York on the phone with people he knows in Abu Dhabi. I'll bet he's planning on leaving the country. He has nothing left to lose so he's burning his bridges."

"Then why bother sending you to cozy up to me?"

Tony shrugged. "Maybe he needed to buy some time. And to coerce you to drop any charges pending against him so he could get out of the country without his passport being taken away."

"You thought going back to college would prevent Senior from coming after you?" Gibbs was pretty sure that DiNozzo Sr, would go to great lengths to keep Tony under his control, and would surely be planning on taking him with him to Abu Dhabi or wherever he was running off to. A boy like Tony would be valuable over there, Gibbs thought with a inward shudder. Tony going back to Ohio would do nothing more than delay the inevitable.

"I thought I had a chance if I could just get far enough away, and the only safe place I could think of was college. C'mon, he'd never waste his time coming after me in Ohio, and I have friend who'd hide me until he's gone. Then I'd be safe."

"He wouldn’t leave you behind, Tony."

Tony insisted, "He has bigger things on his mind. Anyway, I was going to phone you as soon as I got back to campus, Jethro, and warn you to watch your back. I knew you could take care of yourself. You're a Marine," he said as if that was all the explanation needed.

Even if he could take care of himself, Gibbs found Tony's faith in him touching. "I believe you, Tony." Tony's whole face lit up until Gibbs indicated Tony's bruises. "He didn't take your newfound independence very well, did he?"

Tony pulled a face. "No, well, I was being sort of…annoying. I get that way sometimes."

"You don't say," Gibbs said with a straight face.

"He realized he couldn’t control me any more. It was only a matter of time because I was bucking him at every turn," Tony said with a tight little smile. "I overheard him negotiating to sell me to his friend, to Sir, to do what he wanted with me. Dad promised me he'd never do that…he said Sir would ruin me but…he was taking bids." Tony made a dismissive gesture with one hand but Gibbs could see the pain of rejection in his eyes, knowing his father only saw him as a commodity – one that had outlived its usefulness. Tony said pragmatically, "When I was still in the limo, I told Dad that I would never hurt you, so he might as well go and suck his own dick, and Sir's, too, and he sort of lost it and…" Tony motioned towards his throat. "I'm not gonna let either of them ever touch me again, Gibbs, I swear."

At that moment Gibbs wanted nothing more than to take hold of Tony, and hold him tight in his arms and offer him whatever comfort and strength he could spare, but he had something he had to do first.

Gibbs pulled the photo of DiNozzo Sr. and Senator Harding, and the pictures of the dead and missing Naval seamen out of the folder, but before he showed them to Tony he said, "You're a smart kid, Tony. You listen in on conversations, and knew more details about that freighter of guns being hijacked than Torres did. Apparently you know most of the corporate dicks from New York to DC, and you're savvy enough to squirrel away your earnings in an offshore account. And somehow – _somehow_ – you've managed to befriend a team of major crime Naval investigators within a short time of meeting them, not to mention finagling your way into my bed." Gibbs left out how Tony had also wormed his way into his life and had stolen his heart.

The mask was back on Tony's face, and it was such a skillfully applied cover-up that even Gibbs couldn’t see any cracks in it. Gibbs hated himself but he continued relentlessly. "So tell me – how is it that such a bright, scheming, inquisitive young man like yourself doesn't know the name of your Dad's best friend, the man who raped you?"

***end chapter 26***


	27. One Day

Gibbs sat on the corner of the interrogation room table and asked, "You know his name, Tony?" Gibbs saw a blaze of hatred appear in Tony's eyes in response, but Gibbs could tell that it wasn't directed at him. Just as quickly as the intense emotion was revealed, it disappeared, covered up as if had never been there in the first place.

It struck Gibbs that it was taking a great deal of effort for Tony to maintain his neutral façade. His inner struggle wasn't apparent at first glance and Gibbs thought it unlikely that anyone would even know that Tony was hiding behind a well-constructed camouflage – but Gibbs could tell. There were cracks in Tony's carefully projected game-face, with a suggestion of tautness at the corners of his mouth and the hint of conflicting emotions in the depths of his dispassionate green eyes.

Tony appeared untroubled by Gibbs' accusation, making Gibbs realize how Tony's experiences had forced him to hone his skill at covering up his innermost thoughts and feelings. This cool young man was nothing like the fun, amusing and passionate Tony who Gibbs had come to know quite well over the past couple of days. It was apparent that during the time they'd spent together Tony had felt safe enough in Gibbs' company to reveal some of his true self, and Gibbs was an honored to be so trusted. It was the comparison of that free and easy youth with this composed young man, as well as with the sexually aggressive creature who had been let loose earlier, that made Gibbs recognize that his boy had several disparate sides.

It would take a professional to determine if Tony had a split personality, though Gibbs didn't think that was the case. More likely that these personas were protective layers that Tony donned in times of stress. If he had his way, Gibbs would ensure that Tony would never have to don these disguises ever again, and would just be confident enough to be himself.

It pained Gibbs that Tony felt compelled to repress his emotions and to drastically change his character to suit the needs of the situation. Gibbs couldn't imagine what it would be like to live under the complete rule of a domineering, menacing parent. His own parents had been kind and loving, if strict. He'd butted heads with his dad but as a kid it never would have entered Gibbs' head that an adult could abuse his own flesh and blood. What kind of life had Tony endured over the past few years while trapped in a sordid world of his father's design where he was valued only for his talent for sexually pleasing his father's high-powered clients?

Tony had endured so much, and yet he'd survived basically on his own, apparently without having anybody to turn to in his time of need. Well, Gibbs thought, Tony had someone now, and he intended to always be there for him, in whatever capacity Tony wanted, whether it be a steady home, someone to talk to, or a set of strong arms to hold and comfort him when he was down.

"I didn't ask," Tony said, finally answering Gibbs' question, with a slight shake of his head. "After that summer I never came face-to-face with him."

Gibbs narrowed his eyes and asked, "You never tried to find out about the man? Never overheard his name when you listened in on him and your father talking about their business?"

Tony angled his head to look up at Gibbs, who was casually perched on the edge of the table close to him. "My father always refers to him as Sir," Tony replied evenly, seemingly undisturbed by Gibbs' persistent questioning or his proximity. He gave a small shrug and said, "Yeah, I could have asked my father straight out what Sir's real name was, but I know my Dad never had any intention of telling me. It's not like I ever know the names of my father's business connections, anyway. I only know their dicks." Tony laughed humorlessly. "Can't you see me kneeling in front of the chairman of the First Global Bank while my father makes formal introductions?" He mimicked his father's voice, saying, "'Anthony, my boy, meet Mr. Habernathy's dick. Habernathy, this is Anthony Jr., who will now pleasure you with his extremely talented impression of a happy cocksucker.'" Tony said with a bemused expression, "If I had asked what Sir's real name was, Dad would just deflect, and then he'd think I had an interest in Sir." Tony stared right into Gibbs' eyes when he said firmly, "I wouldn't give my father the satisfaction of being able to turn me down, and anyway, I don't give a shit about that douche-bag."

Gibbs had been wondering how it was that Tony had managed to survive years of sexual abuse – which is what it was, even if his father had never laid a hand on him personally in _that_ way, or so Gibbs believed – without some serious damage to his spirit. But now, for the first time, Gibbs clearly saw that there was a place inside the boy that was bound tightly by hate and fear and maltreatment, and that Tony – the real Tony – was curled up in a tight ball deep inside of him, just begging for someone to come along and release him. Gibbs hated himself for having never seen it before. His heart went out to Tony, and in an empathetic gesture that had no place in the interrogation room, and would have shocked his colleagues if they'd seen it, Gibbs laid a supportive hand on Tony's shoulder and murmured, "I'm so sorry, Tony."

Gibbs watched closely as Tony cautiously sought the veracity in his eyes. Eventually the young man apparently found whatever it was he'd been looking for and he gave an almost imperceptible nod. Tony's shoulder muscles relaxed under Gibbs' hand, and for the first time since they'd entered that room Tony let his guard down.

Leaning close to Tony, Gibbs asked in a low, almost intimate voice, "You think that not knowing his name keeps you safe? The less you know the less likely you are to be affected? Is that it?" Gibbs watched Tony's eyes flicker to one side briefly, and then return once again to meet his gaze directly, and Gibbs knew he'd hit a nerve. "All it does is keep you ignorant, keeps them in control, Tony. It's dangerous. A man needs to know his enemies in order to survive."

Keeping his anger reined in and giving every word weight, Tony said, "I know exactly who my enemies are, Jethro. And every damned day I do whatever it takes in order to survive. Don’t you Marines say that you've gotta shoot straighter than the enemy who's trying to kill you, and to shoot him before he shoots you? How does it go?" He quoted, "'My rifle and I know that what counts in war is not the rounds we fire, the noise of our burst, or the smoke we make. We know that it is the hits that count. We _will_ hit.'"

Gibbs scowled upon hearing Tony's recital of the Marine credo. Where the hell had that come from? Tony would have learned it when he was at the military academy he attended when he was a boy, but to hear those fighting words coming from Tony's lips – and sounding an awful lot like a threat – concerned Gibbs. "You waging some kind of war, Tony? Exactly who've you got in the crosshairs?"

Tony didn't shy away from Gibbs' penetrating gaze at first, but then his eyes veered away to focus on some indefinite point beyond Gibbs' shoulder. Tony's expression closed down and he said, "I can't exactly wage war on an unnamed enemy, can I?"

Gibbs leaned forward and grasped Tony's chin. "Look at me," he ordered, though not unkindly. Tony did as he was told and Gibbs could see the pain that flared in his eyes, an a tinge of embarrassment colored his cheeks, as if being touched by the older man broke down his barriers and he couldn’t stand for Gibbs to see him like that. Tony was barely holding it all together and even though Gibbs knew he should just drop it, he didn't. "You knew enough about the man, Tony: his college, his background, his fraternity, even what his damned class ring looked like. How hard would it be for you to dig a little and find out his name, who he really was? That's all it would take and you could have reported him to the police, told someone, _anyone_. You could have come to _me_."

Tony jerked his head to one side and out of Gibbs' grip. He compressed his lips and gave a little shake of his head, his eyes revealing guilt. "You think it's easy to go up to a stranger and tell them what's been going on?"

Gibbs wasn't sure if Tony was talking about his father's abuse, or about suspecting Sir of being a killer. Either way, his answer would be the same. "I'm not a stranger."

"But you weren't around, Jethro," Tony said with a sad little laugh. "You don't understand why I didn't tell someone, do you? I…I tried to tell people a couple of times, right from the start, that summer when Sir raped me, and later when my father…" He looked away for a moment and then continued, "I tried, but the results were not exactly what you'd call successful."

"He hurt you, damn it," Gibbs growled, wishing upon everything he valued that he had been there for Tony, and that he could have saved him from so much hurt, that he'd been there to kill Senior – and his friend – preferably with his bare hands.

"He hurt the people I told," Tony said with vehemence, never denying that his father had also hurt him. "It was all my fault. Mine," he said, angrily stabbing his own chest with his forefinger.

"It was never your fault, Tony!" Gibbs drove in every word, "Do not blame yourself."

But Tony shook his head as if he'd been through all of this before. "I couldn’t… _wouldn't_ be responsible for someone getting hurt, Jethro. Not because of me. I kept telling myself I could take whatever he dished out, that I could suck it up like a DiNozzo is supposed to do, and one day – _one day_ – I'd be able to get out." Tony smiled a bit too brightly. "Guess that day finally came, when I accepted your help, Jethro. Looks like you're stuck with me now," he said with a derisive laugh, as if he was doing Gibbs no favors. "It's true: like father, like son. We've both burned our bridges. Sorta like in 'The Godfather' with Michael Corleone settling family business even though he hates his old man and everything he stands for, capiche? Anyway, if I go back now Dad will just get rid of me for being so much trouble."

"You are _never_ going back, Tony," Gibbs said adamantly.

Tony's response was a look of surprise, as if he'd expected Gibbs to reject him even after everything they'd been through together. After a long moment in which he searched Gibbs' face, Tony drew his brows together and asked hesitantly, "You sure about this, Jethro? 'Cause I'm pretty high maintenance and–"

Gibbs slapped Tony on the back of the head, and said in a low, almost threatening voice, "You're mine and I'm never letting you go. I will take care of you, watch out for you, give you what I think you need. You got that?" After seeing hope and then belief light up Tony's face, Gibbs knew that he had finally convinced Tony that he meant every word he said. "I'm trusting you to watch my back, too," Gibbs said.

"I'll watch your back, Jethro," Tony said fervently.

"You better," Gibbs said fondly. Once again he touched Tony's shoulder, as much as for his own comfort as for Tony's sake, because he still needed an answer to his question. "I think you know who Sir is."

"No," Tony said in a quiet voice.

Gibbs tried a different approach. "You knew that your father's friend was murdering young men, Naval personnel who were out there fighting for their country–"

"No!" Tony said, visibly upset.

Gibbs rose to his feet and began to place a series of photos on the table in front of Tony, one by one, as deliberately as turning over cards in game of blackjack. "All of these men are all missing and presumed dead," Gibbs said. They were military ID photos showing young uniformed men, all fresh-faced with high expectations of a bright future. "Their pain might be over now but their families are in limbo, waiting to know the fate of their boys."

Gibbs then laid out the grisly autopsy photos of the two dead sailors whose bodies they'd recovered and watched Tony flinch at the sight. "This is Petty Officer Rudy Soto," Gibbs said, indicating one of the photos. "He was nineteen, just a little older than you." Petty Officer Soto's face and body were discolored by bruises and bloated from being submerged in the icy Potomac. There were broad ligature marks around his chest, arms and neck, evidence of being bound. "He was awarded Junior Sailor of the Year on his first tour for exemplary action aboard his ship while overseas," said Gibbs with pride. "Soto's mother told me he wanted to be a chaplain. He never got the chance. Instead he was raped repeatedly and tortured for a week before being suffocated and dumped in the river like a piece of trash."

Tony stared at the photos of Petty Officer Soto's corpse. He turned pale but he didn't look away. "Sir did this?"

Gibbs pointed to another photo. "This is Private First Class Brownlee. This Marine went missing while on leave from the USS Abraham Lincoln. He was a popular guy who went drinking with his buddies and always paid for at least one round, they say. He never made it back to his ship. The whip marks on his back would have left terrible scars if he'd been given the opportunity to live. Instead, he was found floating, trussed up like a turkey. His girlfriend keeps asking us when we'll release his body so his family can put him to rest, but I don't think she should remember him like this, do you?"

"No," Tony whispered. His eyes flew up to meet Gibbs' and he protested, "No! I didn't know anything about them. I never made the connection. God, if I'd known anything, of course I'd have reported it! Why don't you haul Briggs in here and ask him where he took Jacobs, what he did with him after the party?"

"Oh, we plan to," Gibbs assured him. Mike Franks had already sent two agents out to bring Steven J. Briggs in quietly and question him without spooking his boss, Senator Harding. Franks would find some way of stowing Briggs in one of the cells in the sub-basement of the NCIS building, and would keep him in isolation until they obtained a search warrant for the Senator's properties. "You knew that Sir had been in the military," Gibbs pressed. "You knew that he might be a politician, that he lived in New York and DC, that he liked young boys who fought back. Gives him a sick thrill, keeping them for a while, playing with them, knowing he can kill them anytime he wants to. And he does kill them; once he's done with his victims he puts a plastic bag over their heads and suffocates them."

"I only knew that Briggs went off with Seaman Jacobs at Dad's party, and that Briggs worked for Sir. Dad never called him anything but 'Sir' in front of me, never referred to him as anything but _Sir_!"

Gibbs placed one hand on the back of Tony's chair, braced his other hand on the table, and leaned in so close that he was practically breathing down Tony's neck when he said, "You see, Tony, I now know exactly who Sir is." At Tony's shocked look, Gibbs pulled back a few inches and said, "That's right. I now know his name and where he lives. I even met him once before, thought he was a decent guy. Guess his looks are deceiving."

Tony blanched and stared up at Gibbs as if he didn't know him. "No," he whispered. "You can't. You don't…He's dangerous! Don't go near him, Jethro!"

" _This_ is your father's best friend, his frat buddy, his business partner." Gibbs placed the photo in front of Tony that showed DiNozzo Sr. and Senator Harding smiling at the camera. "His real name is Senator Kingston Harding. Sigma Chi at Yale. He was a Marine, now a United States Senator, and our intel says he's about to meet with Alonzo Torres, their mutual friend, in order to do business. Now what d'ya think's gonna happen when those two men compare notes? Think they'll figure out that it was Senior DiNozzo who sold out the payload to the tune of six-million dollars? This is the man who we suspect is a serial murderer. _This_ ," Gibbs said between clenched teeth, stabbing a finger at the photo of Harding, "is the man who raped and brutalized a fourteen-year-old kid with his father's permission. This is the man who your own father plans to sell you to when he's finished with you!"

Tony reached out with a trembling hand and picked up the photo of his father and Harding, staring at it for all of three seconds before slamming it face down on the table. "I didn't _want_ to know who he was," Tony said with an uneven voice. "I didn't…I didn't want to _know_ his name!" He suddenly erupted, shouting, "Why'd you tell me when I told you I didn't want to hear his fucking name!" Tony sent a look of appeal to Gibbs, willing him to understand. "Please, Jethro…I don't want to know," he entreated. He dropped his head into his hands, breathing heavily.

"He can't hurt you any more, Tony." Gibbs reached out but as soon as his hand touched Tony's shoulder, Tony jerked away. Gibbs had expected Tony to be angry and maybe sickened at seeing his rapist's face in the surveillance photograph but just the same Gibbs wasn't prepared for Tony's reaction.

Tony stood so fast he knocked his chair over, and reeled back with wide, blank eyes, one hand clasped over his mouth as if to prevent himself from throwing up. Gibbs was up and at Tony's side in an instant, but the young man resisted, fighting, striking out at Gibbs when he grasped his arm. "Tony! It's all right. We're going to get him!"

"No, it isn't all right!" Tony backed up until he hit the wall of the interrogation room, and stood there with his chest heaving, raising his arms defensively when Gibbs moved into his space. "No! Don't touch me!"

"It's all right," Gibbs insisted, reaching out for him with a placating gesture. Tony erupted, crying out and struggling. He delivered a heavy punch to Gibbs' midsection, but Gibbs ignored the pain; he moved in swiftly and wrapped his arms tightly around the young man, to prevent any more blows and to steady and comfort him, saying all the while, "Take it easy. Easy, boy. It's all right." Gibbs held the back of Tony's head with one hand and pulled him close, feeling the tension and fight as Tony resisted his attempts to hold him close and calm him down. "It'll be fine. I've got you," Gibbs said soothingly. "I'll watch your back. C'mon, boy, I've got you."  Gibbs felt Tony struggle one last time before he gave in, his body sagging against Gibbs'. Tony inhaled big, ragged gulps of air and buried his face in Gibbs' neck while Gibbs ran his hand up and down Tony's back, waiting for the meltdown to wind down.

"I didn't want to know who he was," Tony explained, his voice muffled against Gibbs' shirt. "If h-he had a name then…" He took a few deep breaths but didn't continue.

"Then what?" Gibbs placed a kiss on Tony's temple and another on the corner of his mouth and waited patiently.

Tony swallowed. "Then it wouldn't be a bad dream any more. It'd be real."

Gibbs held Tony tight and stroked his hair soothingly, wishing he could do something to ease his pain. "He's all too real, Tony, and he's been hurting other young men for far too long. There are probably more of them than we know about yet. We have to stop him now."

Tony wiped his nose with his forearm and then admitted in a barely-there voice, "I saw him…Sir…in the newspaper."

Gibbs wasn't really surprised. "When was that?"

"I dunno, maybe a year ago. I pretended I'd never seen it, but then there was something on TV, on the news, about a Senate oversight committee, and they showed him talking and I heard his name, and he was laughing and they were all back-slapping each other like he was the best guy in the world, and I knew I'd never be free of him if I didn't do something..." Tony clung to Gibb's shirt. "I threw up." He pulled back to look at Gibbs, his eyes wild. "And then you called my father and accused him of hiding something, and now I think Dad suspected his best friend of killing all those boys, and he said Sir was going to ruin everything that he'd spent years building up and…and I knew…knew I had to…Oh God."

Gibbs was concerned that Tony was going to hyperventilate, so he led Tony back to his seat and clasped a hand to his neck to reassure him he was right there, and coached him to take deep breaths. Tony's rapid breathing slowed down and when he swallowed and closed his eyes, Gibbs knew the crisis had been averted. He was about to ask what Tony had meant by saying, 'Knew I had to…,' when there was a knock on the interrogation room door.

"Dammit," Gibbs swore, knowing it had to be urgent; nobody would dare interrupt him during an interrogation, even if it weren't an official one. "Hang on, Tony. Be right back."

Tony clung to Gibbs and asked, "No, where're you going?"

"I'm not going anywhere. Someone's at the door. I'll be right back, okay?"

Gibbs waited for Tony's reluctant nod before he went to see who was foolish enough to take his life into his own hands by interrupting him. Unlocking the heavy door, Gibbs opened it a few inches, to find an anxious-looking Stan Burley waiting to speak to him.

"Sorry to interrupt, but Franks told me to get right down here, to keep you in the loop, and–"

Gibbs said impatiently, "Just give it to me."

"The FBI guy, Fornell, is here, and," Stan said, lowering his voice, "he brought DiNozzo Sr. with him."

***end chapter 27***


	28. Risky Business

"The FBI guy, Fornell, is here, and," Stan said, lowering his voice, "he brought DiNozzo Sr. with him."  
  
"Good," said Gibbs grimly. He was looking forward to confronting Tony's father, preferably in an out-of-the-way dark corner where he could freely express exactly what he thought of the manipulative, fucked-up son of a bitch.  
  
Stan revealed, "Looks like DiNozzo's been spilling whatever he knows to the FBI in return for immunity." Gibbs raised his eyebrows, waiting expectantly for whatever it was that Stan was reluctant to say. Stan continued, somewhat apologetically, "He's demanding to see his son. Director Morrow's with them in the conference room now."  
  
Gibbs glanced over his shoulder at Tony and saw from the frozen expression on his face that he'd heard everything Stan had said. When he saw Stan looking at Tony with curiosity, Gibbs moved slightly to one side in order to block Stan's view of the young man. "I need a couple of minutes, Stan."  
  
Gibbs went to close the door but Stan grabbed Gibbs' sleeve and said urgently, "Wait, Gibbs. Franks wanted me to tell you that another serviceman, a Petty Officer Charlie Kovaks, was confirmed missing from Norfolk. Pacci's already completed the interview with Kovaks' CO and is on his way back here now. Pacci says the CO was right on top of things and reported it as soon as Kovacs was snatched last night, so there's a good chance he's still alive." Stan's handsome face was rigid with anger when he said, "We need to get the bastard who's killing these boys, dammit."  
  
Gibbs nodded. "We will, Burley. We will, I swear."  
  
As soon as he'd closed the door securely, Gibbs returned to Tony's side. It was obvious from the closed-off expression on Tony's face that he had heard everything Stan Burley had said. Gibbs sighed, pulled Tony to his feet, and drew him near until they were only inches away from each other. Tony's shirt had been messed up during their short struggle, so Gibbs straightened it, using it as an excuse to run his hands over Tony's shoulders and chest.  
  
Tony leaned into Gibbs' touch, needing the close contact as much as Gibbs did, and watched him from under half-closed eyelids. The only sign that Tony was anxious was his slightly increased rate of breathing. "I didn't think I was going to have to face him again," he said under his breath, in a partial plea.  
  
Gibbs briefly stroked Tony's cheek, as assurance that he understood. "I know it isn't gonna be easy for you, but we have to meet your father head-on." When Tony's eyes dropped and he began to chew on his bottom lip, Gibbs barked, "Hey!" making Tony look up hurriedly. "I want you to remember that he doesn't matter any more. He can't influence you, or make you do anything you don't want to do. Those days were over the moment you made the choice to call me for help."  
  
It didn't hurt to remind Tony that he'd cut all ties with his father. It was difficult for kids who were normally to break out of the parent/child dynamic even as adults, and would be doubly so for Tony because his father had been so dominant over every aspect of his life. "We are going to get through this together, Tony. You and me, we're a team, understand?"  
  
It took a few seconds before Tony acquiesced and answered, "Okay, Boss."  
  
"I need you to trust me." It could prove to be dangerous if Tony didn't have total faith in him. "I know you can be strong. You've survived so much shit from him, Tony, and you deserve so much better. This is your chance to stand up to him. We'll work together on this, understand?"  
  
"We're a team," Tony confirmed. He suggested, with a sudden gleam in his eye, "A team like Butch and Sundance? Or Crockett and Tubbs? I always thought those two cops had a thing going on. There was something about those pink t-shirts they wore under their Armani jackets. Or maybe we're more like–" Tony ignored the warning signs that Gibbs was annoyed, and said animatedly, "Oh, I know! We're a team like Daphne and Josephine in 'Some Like it Hot', on the run from Chicago mobsters after they witness the St. Valentine's Day massacre. It's a classic comedy and…oh, do not tell me you haven't seen it, Jethro. Jack Lemmon and Tony Curtis…?"  
  
Gibbs found it irritating as hell when Tony turned a serious situation on its ear by starting in on one of his obscure film references, although Gibbs did allow that almost all film references went right over his head, especially if they weren't westerns. "DiNozzo!"  
  
It took a tap to the back of his head to bring Tony back to earth. "Sorry, Boss. 'Course I trust you," Tony said, as if it was a given and he was affronted that Gibbs had to ask. Tony rubbed the back of his head and then smoothed his hair down, but there was a hint of a smile on his lips, as if he was secretly pleased about something. "This is your game," he assured Gibbs. "I'm following your lead."  
  
Gibbs was relieved to hear that Tony was willing to follow, though the kid had yet to be field-tested. "I'm not gonna lie to you, Tony – the going is gonna get tough. I don't care that Agent Fornell is focused on taking down Alonzo Torres," he said impatiently. "Or that he's likely to butt heads with us over jurisdiction and procedure. Our primary goal is to catch the Lookout serial killer, to bring that scumbag Harding to justice, and no FBI agent is going to interfere with one of our NCIS cases. Never let anyone piss on your territory."  
  
"Is that another rule?" Tony asked, watching Gibbs with serious eyes.  
  
Gibbs nodded. "Rule #29."  
  
"Should I be writing these rules down or something?" Tony patted his pockets, pretending to be looking for pencil and paper.  
  
"You just stick with me and you'll learn by doing," Gibbs replied.  
  
"Will it take a long time to learn all the rules?" Tony asked hopefully.  
  
"Yeah, a really long time," Gibbs said with a slight smile. Teaching Tony would take a lifetime if he had his way. "Now, we can't move in on Senator Harding until we have a warrant, and in order to get one we need to produce something solid for the judge. Think your father'll help us out there, or is the FBI blowin' smoke up our ass?"  
  
That so far they had nothing to incriminate Senator Harding made no difference to Gibbs – he was sure that Harding was their killer. Although Harding's movements matched the dates and locations when the military men went missing it wasn't enough to get a warrant from any judge, especially when the paper was to be served upon a United States senator. They needed to search Harding's properties in DC and NY, and bring him in for questioning once they had evidence that would stick. Even though the Lookout killer had dumped his victims' bodies in water in order to wash away any physical evidence, the most careful of criminals left something behind. If any of the missing men had been taken to Harding's residence, NCIS's forensic scientist, Dustin Chen would confirm it. And Gibbs knew in his gut that Sir would have taken his victims to a location in which he felt safe, a secure place where their screams wouldn't be heard, most likely on his own estate.  
  
"You think my father will help?" Tony looked askance at Gibbs, obviously doubting his father would rat out his friend and business partner, even if he knew that Harding had committed heinous crimes. "Dad has to be playing the FBI. He'll never turn on Sir – they have something…between them."  
  
"You know what it is?"  
  
Tony shook his head. "It's just a feeling."  
  
"If we don't move fast and decisively," Gibbs cautioned, "Harding will take flight, and next thing we know he'll be having breakfast in Dubai with your old man. Then we'll never be able to bring him to justice."  
  
"There's no extradition," Tony said, as if he knew all about such things. "But why would my father be talking to the FBI? I mean, Dad really hates the feds. They've been after him for years and he's always been so proud he's gotten the better of them. It's not like he's gonna turn around and spill his guts to them just 'cause they ask him nicely."  
  
Gibbs was also surprised that DiNozzo Sr. was cooperating with the FBI. The feds probably had some heavy evidence against him, and it was likely that Senior was playing along just enough to save his own skin. Gibbs rested both hands on Tony's shoulders and looked earnestly into his eyes. "I don't know what your father is up to, Tony, but if he thinks he'd going walk in here and stake a claim on you, then he's going to be damned disappointed. I won't allow it. You got that?"  
  
Tony looked pleased and colored a little at Gibbs' declaration. "Yeah, I got it, Jethro. Thanks."  
  
After patting Tony's cheek, Gibbs instructed, "When we go up to the conference room, you don’t say anything." He waited for Tony to nod that he understood before continuing. "I'll do the talking. Follow me and stick close." Again, Tony nodded. "And Tony, if you have to lie…be specific."  
  
"I know that rule – it's #7. Don’t worry; I'll never tell him anything about us, or about our weekend, Jethro. I'm not about to hand Dad a loaded gun he can use against us."  
  
Gibbs agreed wholeheartedly that they should keep their illicit activities to themselves. "We'll get through this, Tony, and as soon as the case is closed we're going to start something. You got that?"  
  
Tony ran his hands back and forth along Gibbs' forearms where they still rested on his shoulders, and gave them a squeeze. "I thought we'd already started something," he said with a flirtatious look.  
  
Gibbs grinned and said, "Smartass. We'll start something new together, then." He had a sudden memory of pressing Tony against the sink in his kitchen, grasping his hardening cock, caressing and fondling his balls. And then Gibbs was fucking Tony from behind, thrusting four of his fingers inside that hot, tight channel to the accompaniment of those needy cries that never failed to turn him on.  
  
Then he was picturing their future: sleeping late on a rainy Sunday morning with Tony wrapped contentedly in his arms, sitting down to home-cooked dinners they'd made together, going out to the movies, and doing such mundane chores as washing the car and doing laundry together. They would live side by side in a world of their own making and be damned to everyone else. Gibbs hoped like hell he could make his dreams come true, for both of their sakes.  
  
When Gibbs came back to earth he saw that Tony's face was lit up, apparently having a good picture of what Gibbs was thinking. Tony smirked and said, "I think we'll be fine together, Jethro."  
  
"Damned right we will." Gibbs cupped Tony's face gently in both of his hands and kissed him. Tony's hands lightly rested on Gibbs' waist; his eyelids fluttered closed and he sighed when their mouths met. There was a slide of lips, soft and warm, with a hint of tongue meeting tongue, and there was pleasure and sensuality, too.  
  
If there was a little bit of desperation on Tony's part, in the way he clung to Gibbs, Gibbs did his best to offer the promise of good things to come. He teased Tony's lips apart with his tongue, loving the little sound that wasn't quite a moan that the caress drew forth. Tony melted into Gibbs' arms, pressing his young, lean body against the hard planes of Gibbs' chest, stomach and thighs, moving sinuously as if he was trying to climb inside of the older man. Tony angled his head and the kiss deepened, and when they parted, breathless, Gibbs' head was swimming and he was aching with unfulfilled need.  
  
With a deep, ragged breath, Gibbs pulled away reluctantly and said, "Let's go and face the enemy."  
  
*  
  
Gibbs entered the conference room, with Tony on his six, as if he was striding onto the parade ground at Quantico. A quick glance around, and Gibbs identified all the players and determined the hierarchy of power in the room. Director Morrow, exuding his usual air of calm control, sat at the head of the large table. He made being top dog look effortless, thought Gibbs, as he gave his boss a curt nod of greeting.  
  
Mike Franks leaned against the wall behind the director, positioned where he had a good view of the proceedings. Mike's arms were crossed over his chest and he had an unlit cigarette hanging from his lips, but despite his laconic pose, Gibbs could tell that his team leader was bristling with irritation.  
  
On the near side of the table sat a man who Gibbs immediately identified as FBI Agent Fornell. Fornell looked from Gibbs to Tony with undisguised professional interest.  
  
And there, opposite Agent Fornell, sat Anthony DiNozzo Sr.. DiNozzo was well dressed in a perfectly fitting charcoal-gray suit that Gibbs instinctively knew cost more than his own monthly salary; everything from DiNozzo's expensive haircut to his buffed fingernails reeked of affluence.  
  
The smile that slowly formed on DiNozzo's lips was exactly as Gibbs remembered: the strong white teeth of a predator, bared in a smile that didn't reach his steel-gray eyes when they lit upon Gibbs. DiNozzo's eyes slid past Gibbs and his expression hardened. Even though he couldn’t see the young man who was following close on his heels Gibbs could sense Tony stiffen in reaction.  
  
As Gibbs and Tony approached the large conference table, Tony's father indicated the empty chair next to him with a commanding gesture. For a second Tony hesitated, intending to follow his father's unspoken order. Immediately Gibbs said in a casual tone of voice, "Tony," and without question Tony slipped into the chair beside the NCIS agent. A muscle at the corner of DiNozzo Sr.'s eye twitched, the only evidence he was infuriated at Gibbs' interference, and at the control the special agent had over the young man. Gibbs doubted that DiNozzo was used to being on the losing team. Well, this time he was not only going to lose, but he was going to lose big time, Gibbs thought with satisfaction.  
  
Brief introductions were made by Director Morrow, and Gibbs shook hands with Agent Fornell. From the way the corner of Fornell's mouth quirked up it appeared he was well aware of the deep animosity between the NCIS agent and DiNozzo Sr..  
  
Gibbs did not like the way Fornell looked Tony up and down, as if he was stripping him bare, but when Gibbs growled in the back of his throat and planted himself between them, Fornell actually chuckled.  
  
"Down boy," Fornell said, his hands raised defensively. "You've got yours and I've got mine," he said quietly, for Gibbs' ears only. With a nod of his head he indicated Senior, who was busy examining his son disdainfully.  
  
Tony was just as occupied, looking anywhere but at his own father. When he met Director Morrow's eyes and smiled at him in a friendly, open way, the director acknowledged Tony with, "Son," spoken in an equally friendly manner. It was no secret around the Navy Yard that Tom Morrow had a soft spot for kids, especially those hurt or in trouble, and right now Tony looked rather vulnerable with his bruised temple and neck and the way he kept glancing in Gibbs' direction.  
  
Gibbs replied under his breath to Fornell, "Huh. We both know who's got the better end of that deal."  
  
Gibbs took his seat, glad that the width of the conference table provided a good excuse to avoid shaking hands with DiNozzo. From Senior's glowering expression it appeared that the feeling was mutual. Sitting across from DiNozzo was not easy when what Gibbs really wanted to do was leap across the broad table, wrap his fingers around the man's thick neck and strangle the asshole until he was gasping and blue in the face. He had never hated the man so much as he did right now, and it was taking a lot of effort to keep a lid on his anger. Personally, Gibbs didn't care if the entire world knew how much he despised DiNozzo, but for the sake of the game it was important to keep his emotions locked up tight, so he presented a professional face.  
  
To Tony's credit, he acted disinterested and bored in the proceedings, even though Gibbs had to reach under the table a couple of times to tap Tony's leg to stop him from fidgeting nervously. Just touching him briefly calmed Gibbs a little, too, and he wondered if Tony purposely jiggled his leg in order to get Gibbs to make contact with him. Gibbs occasionally glanced at Tony and was glad to see his boy kept his eyes averted from those of his father. There was no reason to tempt fate, and Gibbs was concerned that should DiNozzo Sr. get the chance to turn the full power of his malevolence upon his son, Tony might cave under the assault.  
  
The director and Fornell did most of the talking about the mission. They bartered a bit over who was going to get jurisdiction, as Gibbs had expected. They'd obviously discussed some of the details before Gibbs had come to the table, but Morrow went over it one more time for Gibbs' sake, and for clarity.  
  
"Mr. DiNozzo makes contact by phone with Alonzo Torres and Senator Harding as soon as we're done here," Morrow said. "He invites them both to his suite at the Excelsior tonight, which the FBI will rig with audio and video devices to record the meeting. Torres is asking to discuss Senator Harding's vote on the Colombian Aid Bill, and he will offer a commitment to back Senator Harding's political career."  
  
Gibbs interrupted, asking, "I thought the senator won't talk to Torres directly."  
  
Fornell looked first at Morrow and got a nod of approval to speak. He turned to Gibbs and said, "Torres and his associates have enormous power and limitless funds, and Mr. DiNozzo will convince Harding to listen to whatever Torres has to offer."  
  
It sounded like a tall order and Gibbs wondered how Fornell could be so sure of anything that Senior would do. As if hearing what Gibbs was thinking, Director Morrow asked, "Mr. DiNozzo, you have assured the FBI that you can convince Senator Harding to meet with Alonzo Torres, is that not correct?"  
  
DiNozzo Sr. said with obvious pride, "My association with the senator goes way back, as you know, and I have considerable influence with Winston…Senator Harding, that is. I've always said that you need to work at making the right connections from an early age, and my own success is evidence of the importance of rubbing shoulders with the right people." DiNozzo spared a glance at his son, whose eyes were fixed upon Director Morrow, and said acerbically, "It's a lesson my own son has, unfortunately, not taken to heart, though I've given him every advantage. Why, I've even taken him with me to business meetings around the world…"  
  
Next to Gibbs, Tony slouched in his chair and worried his lower lip with his teeth. He rested one foot on the other knee and appeared to be terribly interested in picking at the rubber edging of his sneaker. Gibbs risked everything by lightly resting his hand on Tony's back when he leaned across him to reach for a pitcher of water in the center of the table. "Water?" Tony gave a small shake of his head and didn't look up. Gibbs poured himself a glass of water and slowly sank back into his seat, but not before he rubbed his thumb back and forth across Tony's back, out of sight of everyone else in the room. Before Gibbs retracted his arm all the way, he was pleased that Tony leaned back imperceptibly in acknowledgment of his small gesture.  
  
Hating Senior more with every passing minute, Gibbs looked past the director to meet Mike Franks' eyes and saw that his team leader had caught his and Tony's small exchange. With the subtlest of non-verbal communication, the two men managed to convey to each other that before this whole thing was over, they were going to take care of DiNozzo, for once and for all.  
  
***end chapter 28***


	29. Transition

Anthony DiNozzo Sr. leaned back in his chair at the conference table and rubbed one finger absently across his mouth, seemingly engrossed in the conversation between Director Morrow and Agent Fornell. DiNozzo interjected an occasional comment, apparently enjoying the sound of his own voice, thought Gibbs derisively. Why the hell Tony's father was even allowed to sit in on this meeting, when he should be locked in a small room being interrogated by Mike Franks and his handy telephone book, was beyond Gibbs.  
  
Gibbs, furious that the director of NCIS was talking to this criminal as if his word carried any weight, noticed that DiNozzo, in spite of his pompous, confident manner, had sweat beading on his upper lip. When DiNozzo surreptitiously wiped it off, Gibbs realized that the successful million-dollar deal-maker was acutely nervous.  
  
DiNozzo must have felt Gibbs' gaze upon him because he tensed and his eyes darted around the room. When he became conscious he was being appraised, and by whom, DiNozzo appeared momentarily startled. His inner feelings were revealed only for a split second, but that was long enough for Gibbs to ascertain, without a doubt, that Senior was not just nervous – he was scared. The question now, thought Gibbs, was what – or whom – was Tony's father scared of?  
  
It was uncanny how quickly and effortlessly Senior's expression had changed once he knew he was being observed – from appearing disconcerted to being totally unconcerned. What bothered Gibbs, apart from the duplicity of the man, was that this was exactly the same kind of transition he had seen Tony go through, and more than once.  
  
Much as he would like to deny it, Gibbs could no longer ignore that Tony had inherited at least one of his father's less than desirable characteristics. Anyone could see physical similarities between Tony and Senior, but the same ability to effortlessly take on a different persona – that bothered Gibbs. With Tony it was a way of covering up undesirable emotions, of offering a dispassionate face to the world as a way of protecting himself. It was a cover-up, to be sure, but to Gibbs it seemed as though the transition Tony went through was like pulling on a whole new outer skin, and one that came with its own unique personality.  
  
Had years of abuse damaged Tony's inherent good qualities, and shaped him into a younger version of his father? Who could blame Tony for using the tools he'd learned from his father, becoming adept at subterfuge, using sex to get what he wanted? As these thoughts went through his mind, Gibbs stole a glance at Tony, only to find that he was looking straight at him with a hurt expression on his face. Their eyes locked and Gibbs knew that Tony had caught sight of his brief surge of doubt.  
  
Tony shook his head almost imperceptibly and whispered, "No, Jethro. You can't think I'm like him…"  
  
As soon as he looked into Tony's eyes, all of his doubts disappeared and Gibbs knew for certain that Tony was a good person at heart, and that he was nothing like his father. Tony was not and never could be corrupt, self-centered and amoral…not his Tony. God, Gibbs only had to look at the boy and his breath quickened, a surge of love and affection rising and taking hold, so strong it was as if his emotion was a tangible thing. Senior was looking at them now with narrowed eyes, trying to figure out what was going on between them. Gibbs feared that he was too transparent, that his soul was laid bare every time he looked at Tony. He regretted that he'd allowed his uncertainty to show, but he swallowed and quickly turned away, concerned that he would reveal his feelings if he wasn't more careful. He refused to let DiNozzo catch on to how he felt about Tony, knowing that he would use it against them.  
  
Tony must have taken Gibbs' abrupt movement as rejection because next thing Gibbs knew, Tony had made himself small in his chair and, once again, was feigning disinterest in the proceedings.  
  
Gibbs was suddenly aware that Fornell was talking to him, and he forced himself to concentrate.  
  
"…so all we need," Fornell was saying, "is a record of Torres and Harding's intent to collude, even if it's a handshake. Just getting Senator Harding and a New York mob boss in the same room will be the end of the senator's career. It won't matter that they used to know each other back in New York when they were kids. What we're after here are grounds to apply for warrants for these gentlemen's businesses and residences. We, at the FBI, get Torres, and you at NCIS move in on Harding. If anything else comes up in their conversation with Mr. DiNozzo, such as admission of any other criminal activity, we'll accept that as a bonus." He said hopefully, "We're confident that Mr. DiNozzo's affiliation with both Harding and Torres makes him the best candidate for the job of go-between."  
  
Tony released a snort at Fornell's words and slouched further down in his chair. Gibbs agreed with Tony's assessment but he refrained from pointing out that no fed worth his salt would trust any man who would turn on his high-powered friends so easily, even if it was to avoid being prosecuted. Gibbs muttered tersely, "Rule number one."  
  
"Never screw over your partner," Tony recited, almost absently. "Agent Shepard told me she embroidered it on a pillow but I think she was pulling my leg." When he saw that everyone was looking at him, including Director Morrow, who seemed amused, Tony flushed a little and shrugged. "Dad's rule number one is the same…except you need to remove the word 'never.'"  
  
With a pained smile on his face, DiNozzo Sr. raised his hands as if to say 'what can you do with kids?' and at the same time looked as if he wanted to throttle his son.  
  
For a second it appeared that Fornell was going to break into laughter, but instead he covered his mouth with his hand and coughed. He turned to Gibbs and spoke to him behind his hand for privacy. "What can I say? My director made the deal with DiNozzo, and all I can do is work with whatever's tossed my way." Fornell sounded apologetic, but Gibbs still thought it was a big mistake to rely so heavily on DiNozzo to get them close to Senator Harding and Torres.  
  
DiNozzo Sr. regarded Agent Fornell, who was now his official handler, patronizingly. "If we're done here, can someone call my driver so I can return to the Excelsior? I have a couple of business calls scheduled over lunch and I need to prepare for this evening's meeting. I will be taking Junior with me. I'm sure you'll be more than glad for someone to take him off your hands," he said, smiling broadly at nobody in particular.  
  
Tony sent a panicked look Gibbs' way, but before either of them could say anything, Franks shoved himself off the wall and said in his gravelly voice, "Director, I took the liberty of orderin' some sustenance for these folks before we started this powwow. While Senior and the kid here are chowin' down, we big boys need to talk." He pressed a button on his cell phone and gave a curt order.  
  
DiNozzo Sr. started to protest but Morrow quelled him with one look. The director of NCIS said, in an authoritative tone, "You are in protective custody, Mr. DiNozzo, and you will stay here until I say otherwise. My office, Agent Fornell?" Morrow headed towards the door, and indicated for Gibbs and Franks to accompany him as well.  
  
Gibbs placed one hand protectively on Tony's shoulder and didn't move from his side. Tony started to rise but as Morrow walked by him he ordered, "You stay here, son."  
  
From his seated position, Tony looked up at Gibbs, expecting him to explain to the director why he couldn’t remain alone with his father, but at that moment Jenny appeared with two large pizza boxes and a bottle of soda, and Tony was momentarily distracted. He sniffed the air longingly as she passed by him and placed their lunch on the table. Tony licked his lips in anticipation and Gibbs realized how long it had been since breakfast. He could last all day without food so long as he got his coffee, but with Tony it was another matter. Tony never took his eyes off Jenny as she retrieved paper plates, cups and napkins from a side table, and made them available.  
  
"Fornell," Morrow said, stopping in the doorway to usher the FBI agent out of the conference room. "Agent Shepard will remain with our guests." Jenny nodded, understanding her job was to ensure that the DiNozzos didn't leave her sight.  
  
When Gibbs didn't make a move to follow his boss, Director Morrow took a couple of steps back into the conference room, leaned close to Gibbs and said confidentially, "Stop worrying about him, Gibbs. From what Franks has told me, he's perfectly capable of standing up to his old man. Pacci should be back from Norfolk by now, with information on the missing sailor. I want everyone brought up to speed on that first, before we go any further with this op. You with us on this?"  
  
Gibbs was torn between his duty and keeping Tony safe, positive that any conversation between Tony and Senior would become hostile within minutes and go downhill quickly from there. "Be right there, sir."  
  
"You have five minutes, Gibbs, while Franks gets the rest of the team together." Morrow sent Gibbs a stern look that was essentially an order to get his ass in gear, and then he headed out of the conference room with Fornell at his side.  
  
Mike Franks grabbed a slice of pizza on his way past Jenny. "Looks like babysittin's part of a probie's job description," he said with a grin, even though the redhead didn't seem too upset at her assignment.  
  
Jenny was busy checking out DiNozzo Sr. and apparently liked what she was seeing. "No problem, sir," she said with a brilliant smile. "I'm sure Mr. DiNozzo and I will find something to talk about."  
  
Pissed off that Jenny was making eyes at Tony's father when she knew what he was really like, Gibbs couldn’t help snarling, "How about you ask him what his best buddy is doing with the latest missing sailor right now, and if he aided and abetted the senator in his crimes."  
  
Senior stiffened and pulled at the cuffs of his shirt. "I've already given my statement to the FBI," he said dismissively. "Your own director knows all about it."  
  
Gibbs started to head around the conference table, and DiNozzo instinctively leaned back in his chair and looked around for an avenue of escape. "I don't give a shit what terms they offered you," Gibbs threatened, pointing his finger at him. "Before this is over you and I are gonna do a couple of rounds, DiNozzo."  
  
Franks grabbed hold of Gibbs' elbow and shook his head. "He denied knowing anything." He guided Gibbs away, a hand on his shoulder, and said quietly, "We'll take care of it but not here, cowboy."  
  
Studiously ignoring the male NCIS agents now they'd backed off, Senior was busy looking Jenny over, and appeared to be just as interested in her as she was in him. "Please, call me Anthony," he said silkily. "So, tell me why a lovely lady like yourself chose to become a federal agent. You like playing with guns?"  
  
Gibbs once again took his place behind Tony's chair, unwilling to leave him alone in the same room as his father, even if Agent Shepard was going to be present to keep the peace. Even though Jenny was batting her eyelashes at Senior, he knew she'd never lose sight of her responsibility as an agent nor shirk her duty. Still, Gibbs hesitated – he'd promised Tony he'd take care of him.  
  
Tony turned his head and looked up expectantly at Gibbs as if he was waiting for the older man to say 'you're with me, Tony,' and they'd get the hell out of there together. Once he saw that Gibbs was hovering because he was worried about what Senior might do or say, Tony snagged another slice of pizza and said softly to Gibbs, "I'll be okay but…you _are_ coming back for me, right?"  
  
***end chapter 29***


	30. Bait

"Damned right I'm coming back for you. Just don't let him bait you," Gibbs advised, just as quietly, aggravated that he couldn't bring Tony along with him to Morrow's office. He wanted to find somewhere else that was safe for Tony to wait, except that the director had made it clear he expected Tony to remain in the conference room, basically on lockdown.

Tony surprised Gibbs by grinning in response. "Him bait _me_? I think you've got that the wrong way around, Agent Gibbs." Tony took a bite of the pizza in his hand, and after chewing and swallowing he spoke over his shoulder to Jenny. "Thanks for this, Jenny. Just how I like it, with pepperoni, sausage and extra cheese. How'd you know what I like on my pizza, anyway?"

"I'm a trained federal investigator, Tony," Jenny replied with a sweet smile. "If I tell you how I know these things, I'll have to kill you."

Tony wagged a finger at her. "Oh, I know," he said knowingly. "You read the FBI's report on all the junk they found when they searched our garbage. I'll bet that was interesting." He rolled his eyes.

Gibbs smiled to himself and headed for the door, but he halted on the threshold. He couldn't make himself leave the room when he was still anxious about leaving Tony behind. As he watched, Tony jumped up, sat on the conference table with his back to his father, and started talking to Jenny with his mouth half-full of pizza.

"Hey, Jenny, you ever see Sophia Loren in 'L'oro di Napoli', 'The Gold of Naples'? Great little movie. It was made in 1954, and man, Sophia was gorgeous in it!" He motioned with his free hand as well as with the one holding the slice of pizza, and drew the silhouette of a voluptuous woman in the air.

"Italian film? I saw a Fellini film once but that was one too many," she said wrinkling her nose.

"Mmm. You'd like this one though," Tony assured her. "Sophia fools around with this neighborhood guy and loses her wedding ring, so she has to lie to her pizza-vendor hubby about how she lost it, and out of desperation she tells him it must have been when she was kneading some pizza dough. Boy, she was hot! Rrrroww!"

Meanwhile DiNozzo Sr. had pulled out his cell phone and was punching in some numbers, but he didn't appear to be having much success with getting through to whomever he was trying to contact. Gibbs' alert system went off as he wondered who DiNozzo was trying to call; even Jenny was watching the older man's attempts at placing a call, with an investigator's interest.

Tony half-turned towards his father, idly watching him getting progressively more exasperated with his phone as he asked him, " _Vi ricordate, Papa? Pizze a credito._ You remember the part of the movie when Sophia is having sex with the neighbor?" When Senior ignored him, Tony turned back to Jenny with a puzzled frown. "You know, I could never figure out why, when my old man has such a thing for big-breasted, lusty Italian women in movies, he keeps marrying these skinny young blonde chicks who look like they'll break in two as soon as he puts his weight on them when they're fu–."

"Junior!" DiNozzo Sr.'s face became suffused with red at Tony's words, and Jenny's barely hidden amusement didn't help matters any. "Damn it, my phone isn't working." DiNozzo glared at Tony as if its malfunction was his fault. "Junior…" He held his cell phone out to Tony, waiting expectantly for him to take it.

After only a slight hesitation Tony sucked his fingers clean of grease from his pizza and took the cell. "Dad's terrible with electronic stuff," Tony explained to Jenny in a loud whisper. As he fiddled with the phone then held it to his ear, he said, "You know, in Navaho slang the word for cell phone means 'to spin around' which I guess is because that's what teenagers look like when they're talking on their phones. Sort of clever, don't you think?" It was obvious Tony couldn't get a signal but he tapped the buttons and kept trying to get through.

Gibbs was wondering if Tony was the clever one and had some kind of plan, or if he was talking nonsense in the hope that something he said would irritate his father enough to make him lose his cool.

Jenny waved her hand to indicate the walls of the conference room. "Forget the cell phone. It's a dead zone in here. No calls in or out unless it's on a secure line." The redheaded agent said to Tony with a smile, "Better _mange_ the pizza before it gets cold, _Junior_." She poured herself a soda and offered Senior a drink but he just looked away in disdain.

Jenny raised a plastic cup to Gibbs to ask him if he wanted a drink and he answered with a curt shake of his head. He stayed where he was, leaning in the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest, needing to ascertain that everything was under control before he left the room.

Tony looked at Gibbs with a thoughtful expression on his face. "It's strange though, because the slang for divorce, something my father knows all about, is daha'dishjid, which also means 'to die.'" He smiled innocently and handed the phone back to his father, who snatched it from him. Tony flinched and raised his hands defensively, and although his motion appeared to be purposely exaggerated, Gibbs could see there was truth behind Tony's evasive move. Considering the dark looks Senior was giving his son, and the way his hands were clenching into fists, it was no surprise that Tony was keeping his distance.

Curious if Tony really knew Navaho slang or if he was making it all up, Gibbs asked Tony, while he looked pointedly at Senior, "What's the word for asshole?"

"Hmmm." Tony tapped his lips with a finger while he looked upwards, in deep thought. He sent his father a glance and then said to Gibbs, "Don't know, but the Navaho word for drunk, which Dad knows all about, literally means 'to spread your legs.'" Tony shuddered dramatically. "God, I think I need to wash my brain out with soap now. Is there any way you can un-think something disturbing?"

Over Tony's shoulder Gibbs could see DiNozzo Sr. glaring at Tony's back, muttering, "I'll give you disturbing." He was apparently attempting to bore a hole through the back of his son's skull with his eyes. Tony looked up at Gibbs from under his eyelashes and grinned, well aware of how adversely he affected his father. Gibbs smirked, almost feeling sorry for DiNozzo Sr., if Tony was planning on antagonizing him to death.

Senior didn't miss Gibbs' contemptuous look, and he put his useless phone away and changed his tactics. He leaned forward, elbows on the table, and said to Gibbs, with an insincere smile, "I do hope my boy hasn't been causing you too much trouble, Agent Gibbs."

Gibbs moved away from the doorway and faced DiNozzo square-on. "Tony's no trouble at all." He enjoyed seeing the slight narrowing of DiNozzo's eyes, and knew the man was speculating as to whether or not his son had managed to seduce the federal agent. DiNozzo was obviously wondering if Gibbs had avoided temptation altogether, or if he had fallen for Tony's seductive ways and had sex with Tony yet was unaware that Tony had gathered evidence to use against him.

Let him wonder, Gibbs thought. There was no way that DiNozzo could ever comprehend the depth of his feelings for Tony, and he would never find out how intense their lovemaking had been over the past couple of days, if Gibbs had anything to say about it. It was private, between him and Tony, and they were going to keep it that way.

DiNozzo wasn't about to let up so easily though. "It was generous of you to rescue my boy, to take him into your own home. That's what Special Agent Gibbs did, isn't that right, Junior? Took you home?" Tony tensed up but refused to respond so DiNozzo continued in an insinuating tone of voice, "You know, at first I was quite worried, Agent Gibbs, because as we both know there are a lot of unscrupulous people out there. Men who are up to no good, predators who go after young boys and do dreadful, filthy…sexually perverted things to them." He shook his head in mock dismay and leaned back in his chair. "Yes, I was very concerned, as any parent would be, of course. But then I remembered," DiNozzo said, his gaze riveted on Gibbs, who was doing his best to appear unconcerned.

Tony's father continued, "I remembered how you hit it off with Junior last summer, by the pool on my estate, and that's when I knew he was in very good hands. He has been in your good hands, has he not, Agent Gibbs? You do remember the first time you met my boy, don't you?" DiNozzo looked Tony up and down and smiled. "He's hard…to forget, isn't he? So attractive and sweet – and to think he was under-aged back then, only seventeen. But you knew that, didn't you, Agent Gibbs?"

Tony slipped off the table and stood there with his eyes downcast. There was a half-eaten piece of pizza in his hand and after looking at it blankly, as if he wondered why he was holding it, Tony tossed it back into the pizza box.

Gibbs stood only a few feet from Tony, watching him closely. He wanted nothing more than to take Tony in his arms to kiss the pain away, to remind him of what they meant to each other, and to assert that nobody had the right to hurt him – ever. He willed Tony to look up, to see that he was there for him, but Tony wouldn't raise his eyes.

Gibbs did remember their first encounter, as if it was yesterday. Tony, who had been reclining out by the pool, had looked at Gibbs with those big eyes of his full of amusement and undisguised interest, and had said playfully, "You going to take me in? I'll go willingly but only if you cuff me." The kid had then slid his hand across his tanned belly and his fingers had brushed across his crotch, touching himself lightly. Gibbs had watched with fascination as Tony's cock twitched beneath the fabric of his swim trunks. Tony's suntan lotion, coffee-scented, with some ridiculous, high-tone French name, had filled the air. Gibbs, mesmerized, almost against his will, had kissed Tony at that point. He had been incredibly turned on, and lost himself in the caresses of the youth's talented tongue and with the sound of his erotic moans in his ears. He'd fallen hard for Tony right then and there, and his craving had still not diminished. He doubted that it ever would.

Blinking, Gibbs came back to the present with a jerk.

DiNozzo Sr.'s eyes were fixed upon him, calculating yet still a little unsure. "I can tell that you like my boy, but then youth can be so very…fresh and…appealing," DiNozzo said, licking his lips and somehow making those simple words sound dirty. "Junior has proven to be useful in my business dealings, offering a little something extra to sweeten the deal. I've been teaching him, perfecting his talents since he was fourteen, and many of my colleagues have commented on how talented he is. Right now Junior has a little fantasy about becoming an athlete, but we both know that's just a dream. Sad, really. It makes me wonder what will become of him in the future; life is so very uncertain."

Jenny's eyes were flitting between Tony and his father, and then to Gibbs and back again, knowing something was up but not quite grasping what was going on.

Gibbs didn't move from where he stood but the look on Tony's face of utter misery and discomfort made it very difficult for Gibbs to remain calm. He affirmed, "Tony is a fine young man," hoping to get through to Tony that, no matter what his father was insinuating, Gibbs thought only the best of him.

When Gibbs didn't elaborate, Senior said, with a disappointed countenance, "Junior might not have much going on in the brains department, but he's quite a handsome boy, don't you agree? Like father, like son. As far as his character goes, he takes after his mother. She was soft, too, which is fine in a woman…and a boy. When life got too difficult she took to drink. Not like me – I thrive on adversity." Then, as if something dawned on him, a smile grew on DiNozzo's face, wide and malicious. "But you…I can tell that you _like_ the chase and the fight, taking down your adversaries. Of course you do – you're a Marine, aren't you? Born to conquer, like those Roman gladiators who lived and died by the sword. I'll just bet you thoroughly enjoyed living in close quarters with other men, and the sweaty, gritty excitement of combat that gets the blood pumping hard in your veins. And the feeling of power that takes over when you kill, it's almost better than sex, isn't it?"

Gibbs ground out, "You know nothing about me, or about your own son."

DiNozzo laughed without humor. "Oh, but I do. You see, my boy knows his future is all set. He knows his limitations, that he's good only for one thing, and my, he's so very good at it. There's no way out as far as he's concerned, but I promise that I will always be there to guide him. He knows who's the boss." To Tony, Senior asked, "Isn't that right, Junior? You'll always do as Daddy says, don't you?"

Tony was trembling, his fists clenched by his sides, and he didn't raise his eyes from where they were fixed upon the floor. He mumbled something and his father said sharply, "Speak up, Junior!"

Tony immediately responded, louder, though his voice was unsteady, "Yes, Daddy," and Gibbs heart almost broke.

Senior smiled with satisfaction and set his gaze on Gibbs once again. "It's all about being the figure of authority, being in command, showing the boy who the boss is, working him, molding him, and being able to bring him down to his knees with just one word. You know what's good for him, what kind of punishment to mete out, how hard to wield the whip…so to speak."

Jenny was staring at DiNozzo Sr. in horror and disgust, and when she made a move towards him, Gibbs made a quick motion with his hand to stop her. He wanted to hear Senior say something incriminating, and he had a feeling the man was close.

"Oh yes," Senior continued. "I can see you've fought it all your life, this compulsion you have to overpower other men. You've been denying it, but it has a grip on you now, hasn't it? Ever since you met my little boy and you realized just how tasty he is."

Gibbs was unsettled that there may be some grain of truth to DiNozzo's accusations. He did want Tony – he wanted to show him a better way and to influence him, though not for sexual reasons. He knew in his heart that Tony could excel, once he was out of the grip of his father's perverted influence. And Gibbs did enjoy the excitement of competition, both on and off the battlefield, as DiNozzo had pointed out. Only these days he was fine with keeping it within the structure of his job, with the goal of solving crimes in order to make the world a safer place for Navy and Marine men and women. Gibbs hated that this malevolent man could sit there so fucking smugly and assume to know what made him tick. And even more, he hated that DiNozzo could speak about Tony – _his own son_ – as if Tony was a sexual _thing_ he could wield for his own purpose, while not caring one iota about him – never showing an ounce of humanity or consideration for Tony's feelings or wellbeing.

DiNozzo leaned forward and said, with his eyes gleaming with twisted pleasure, "Yes, yes, I can see it in your eyes, that you'll do anything to keep my boy in his place now you've got him there, won't you? You see, I know you – I understand! Ah, so it turns out you are like me, Agent Gibbs, _just like me_ – God, how delightful is that?" He threw back his head and laughed. "Now, I wonder what Director Morrow would think of his best agent if he knew what drove him?"

Suddenly Tony turned, faced his father and surged forward, slamming his hands down on the table, hard enough to make it move. "Shut up!" Tony shouted at his father. "You shut the fuck up! He's nothing like you! Nothing! You don't know anything, _anything_ about Gibbs! You're not fit to lick his boots, and you have no idea, no _fucking_ idea who he is or what he means to me! You could never understand! He's a good, decent man, something you wouldn't know anything about even if it came and hit you right in your face!" Tony threw himself halfway across the table, screaming, "You leave him alone! If you go anywhere near him, you mother-fucking–"

***end chapter 30***


	31. Direct Hit

Before Gibbs could stop him, Tony had launched himself across the table and was striking out at his father. There was the thud of a fist hitting flesh and DiNozzo Sr. staggered, a hand clamped to his nose as he bellowed in pain. Blood streamed from between his fingers and crimson splotches dripped onto his expensive shirt and tie. Swearing a blue streak, Senior's fist flew out, clipping Tony on the side of his head. The blow sent Tony careening against a chair but within seconds he was back on his feet, eyes flashing in anger as he yelled, "Leave Gibbs alone!"  
  
Gibbs wrapped his arms around Tony to restrain him before he could launch himself at his father again, and shouted to both of them, "Enough!"  
  
Taking no heed of Gibbs' order, DiNozzo advanced on Tony, who was restrained in Gibbs' arms, but Jenny swiftly intervened. She expertly pinned one of the older man's arms behind his back and exerted enough pressure to stop him in his tracks. Ignoring DiNozzo Sr.'s outraged demand to be released, the redheaded agent ordered in a firm voice, "Stand down, Mr. DiNozzo."  
  
Gibbs hauled Tony out of the room, with the angry youth still trying to throw a punch at his father. Manhandling Tony was no easy task, and even when Gibbs got him outside the conference room he had a job keeping Tony from rushing back in to continue the skirmish with his father. "Calm down! Calm down," Gibbs ordered curtly. He urged Tony further along the corridor and pushed him against a wall, needing both hands to hold him in place. "Hey!"  
  
Tony struggled in vain to be free of Gibbs' hold. "Let me go! Let me the hell go!"  
  
Moving in so close that his chest pressed against Tony's, Gibbs spoke into his ear. "Not until you calm down, Tony." He took a deep breath and collected himself, heeding his own advice. "You made your point, Tony. Relax. Now."  
  
After a minute Tony stopped fighting him, with apparent reluctance, and Gibbs eased up and released his grip on Tony's arms. Gibbs didn't move away though, but stood right in front of Tony with one arm braced against the wall next to Tony's head, both protecting and guarding him. Gibbs needed to find somewhere secure for Tony to wait while he met with the director. He fleetingly considered locking Tony in one of the cells down in the lower level, but Gibbs had a feeling he'd never be forgiven if he did so. There was no way he was going to let Tony go back and spend even one more minute in the same room as DiNozzo Sr., because there was no telling who might end up dead.  
  
Jenny stuck her head out of the conference room, looking for Gibbs, and saw that he had everything on his end relatively under control. She disappeared back into the room, only to emerge a minute later with Senior at her side. Jenny kept a firm grip on his arm as she guided him into the corridor. Tony's father was clutching a handkerchief to his nose, and the once-white cloth was stained with a copious amount of blood. He was obviously in pain, but he was also irate and tried to jerk his arm out of the special agent's grasp. Jenny paid him no mind, tightened her hold and said, in a no-nonsense manner, "The men's room is this way, Mr. DiNozzo. Let's get you cleaned up." She nodded at Gibbs then escorted DiNozzo in the opposite direction.  
  
Tony never took his eyes off his father's receding figure until he and Jenny disappeared around the corner.  
  
"He's gone, Tony," Gibbs assured the young man, whose features were set in a stony mask, as he placed a hand on his shoulder. Tony's body was shaking slightly, but Gibbs wasn't certain if it was from residual anger or fear, or a bit of both. "He won't hurt you any more." Gibbs knew he was getting through to Tony only when his shoulders relaxed a bit and the trembling stopped.  
  
Tony turned to look at Gibbs, his eyes dark with anger. "You shoulda let me," he said resentfully, wrapping his arms protectively around his chest.  
  
Gibbs was actually proud of Tony for drawing first blood, although he wasn't about to say so aloud. It was funny, really, considering Gibbs had wanted nothing more than to smash a fist into DiNozzo Sr.'s face ever since he'd met the man. He slowly shook his head. "No. No, Tony." If anyone was going to hurt Senior, it was not going to be his own son, no matter how much Tony wanted to strike out. Gibbs didn't want that on Tony's conscience.  
  
He took a moment to inspect the side of Tony's head where his father had struck him. "Let me see where he hurt you." Gibbs took hold of Tony's chin and angled his head a little, brushing his hair out of the way to see what the damage was. There was a definite lump a couple of inches over Tony's left ear, but the skin hadn't been broken.  
  
Tony flinched at the touch even though Gibbs was gentle, and said sulkily, "I'm fine. He hits like a girl."  
  
Gibbs cast him a stern look. "Better let Ducky look at it." Even if Tony was practiced at avoiding the worst of his father's blows, it was obvious that Senior had packed quite a wallop.  
  
"No," Tony protested in alarm. "You don't want to get Dr. Mallard in here just for this, not on a Sunday."  
  
Gibbs smiled inwardly at Tony's attempt to wriggle out of being seen by the doctor. "He's already here. I saw him come in earlier, on another case." He was going to say more but an agent walked by and sent them a curious look, so Gibbs guided Tony along the hallway to an area at the base of the staircase. It was pretty secluded and it was also in a blind spot from the Navy Yard's security cameras.  
  
Gibbs kept a hand on Tony's shoulder, not so much to prevent him from running, but to ground him. Gibbs, too, needed the contact. With his free hand, he pulled out his cell phone and placed a call to Ducky, asking him if he could help him out. Someone had to keep an eye on Tony, and the director had probably already sent out a search party for his missing agent. Director Morrow was an understanding man, but his patience was not unlimited.  
  
While they waited for the ME to arrive, Gibbs stuck close to Tony, shielding him. With nobody in sight, Gibbs risked running a hand down the back of Tony's head and gently clasping the young man's neck reassuringly. Gibbs was careful to avoid the bruises that DiNozzo Sr.'s fingers had inflicted on Tony's neck a couple of nights ago when he'd dropped Tony off in South Brewer. The purple marks served as a reminder of how volatile Tony's father could be, and Gibbs berated himself for not paying more attention to DiNozzo when they were in the conference room. Tony was lucky that he hadn't been seriously injured; DiNozzo was a big man and had a good seventy pounds on his son.  
  
Tony had also been hurt by his father's insults and Gibbs planned to use positive reinforcement to counter all the crap that Senior had slung at his son. Just remembering when DiNozzo had forced Tony to agree that he was the boss, and to say "Yes, Daddy" – and seeing the way that Tony had bowed his head and had given in – made Gibbs so angry he wanted to punch something. Or someone. Instead he cupped Tony's face and gently ran his thumb across his cheek, his heart quickening when Tony looked trustingly into his eyes.  
  
Tony wrapped his fingers around Gibbs' forearm and laid a warm kiss on the exposed skin at Gibbs' wrist. "Wish it could be more," Tony said softly.  
  
"It will be," Gibbs promised. He had always been the kind of man who knew his own mind. He made a decision and he stuck to it, or he had been that way until he'd met Tony. Now he was beginning to second-guess himself, wondering if he was doing what was really best for Tony.  
  
It was selfish of him, Gibbs thought, but he wanted Tony to belong to him, body and soul. It wasn't that he wanted to manipulate or exploit the young man, as DiNozzo had suggested with a sneer. For starters, Gibbs wanted Tony to live with him. He wanted to guide him, to mentor and support him in all things, and to simply be there for the young man 24 hours a day. But was taking care of Tony, always keeping him close, really the best thing for Tony at this stage of his life? Wouldn’t he be better off, and happier, living a normal life at college, among people his own age – studying, partying and playing sports? Gibbs didn't want to even think about Tony dating and having sex with those of his own age when he went back to Ohio State. Nevertheless, Tony deserved a shot at that conventional, safe life he'd never had, and there was no way that anyone's definition of normal included having an ex-Marine, male lover who had a fifteen-year advantage on him.  
  
Tony touched Gibbs' arm and looked at him worriedly. "Hey, he's wrong, you know. He shouldn't have said any of that about you. You're nothing like him, Jethro. Believe me, if you were I never would have…"  
  
Gibbs smiled at the faith that shone in the young man's eyes. "I know I'm nothing like him, Tony. I love you." Tony didn't respond aloud but Gibbs read everything he wanted to know in Tony's eyes. After a moment Gibbs asked, "You never would have…what?"  
  
Tony sent Gibbs an almost shy look from beneath his eyelashes. "I never would have fallen for you."  
  
Gibbs brushed Tony's hair back from his forehead and watched his eyes close with pleasure. "I fell for you right away, you know that?" Gibbs said, in a low rough tone, "It's never happened before, not fast and hard like that."  
  
Tony opened his eyes, a smile playing at his lips. "Fast and hard?"  
  
Gibbs gently cuffed the back of Tony's head. "Stop with the innuendos already." He shifted uncomfortably and adjusted his hardening cock. "Behave."  
  
"Yes, Jethro," Tony said with exaggerated obedience.  
  
There was the sound of footsteps approaching and Ducky appeared. He immediately showed concern and fussed over Tony's latest injury. "Run along now, Jethro," Ducky ordered. "Young Anthony and I will be perfectly fine together. I'll take him down to autopsy where I can put some ice on this goose-egg, and perhaps we can have a little talk." He guided a reluctant Tony towards the elevator, saying, "Now, did I ever tell you, young man, about the strange case I had in which all of the victims had their arms literally twisted right out of their sockets? It rather reminds me of the way one might remove a drumstick from a well-cooked turkey…"  
  
Knowing that Tony was in good hands, Gibbs hurried up the stairs to the director's office. When he was just stepping onto the mezzanine level he looked down to observe Jenny escorting DiNozzo Sr. back towards the conference room. Gibbs noticed that Jenny had DiNozzo's phone in her hand. It appeared that Tony's father had cleaned himself up, although the front of his once-pristine shirt bore pink stains from where he'd failed to wash out all of the blood. As they passed below Gibbs, DiNozzo looked up, apparently feeling Gibbs' cold glare upon him, and he stared right back.  
  
DiNozzo pulled away from Jenny so he could step closer to the stairs. He halted as soon as she barred his way, but he looked past her and called up to Gibbs in Italian, "Oggi a te domani a me." Then, without another glance at the agent standing at the top of the staircase, DiNozzo turned away and allowed himself to be taken back to the conference room.  
  
***  
  
Pacci was saying, "They're talking about a foreign aid bill of over a billion dollars."  
  
"It's goin' to the Colombians to finance armed helicopters to spray herbicides over coca plantations, for Chrissake," groused Mike Franks as he poured himself a cup of black coffee and handed one to Gibbs as well.  
  
Gibbs looked around the director's spacious office. Fornell and all of Franks' team were all present, with the exception of Jenny Shepard, who was keeping DiNozzo Sr. company downstairs. The only other person who was noticeably absent was the director of NCIS himself. Before Gibbs could ask where Morrow was, Franks explained, "He got called into MTAC." The team leader glanced at his watch and said dubiously, "Said he wouldn’t be long. We need to get this show on the road."  
  
Stan Burley was saying to Pacci and Fornell, "FARC claims the money's going to end up being spent on intelligence equipment manned by the CIA and backed by US troops instead of dealing with the source of the drug trade – the rampant poverty. It's the same old cycle."  
  
"Yeah, well," Fornell said, shaking his head in disgust. "Torres is working hard to keep that funding – and all US presence – out of Colombia. Our presence will interfere with his drug trade, and it'll cost the mob millions in losses."  
  
Curious, Pacci asked, "Why didn't Torres go straight to Senator Harding to persuade him to oppose the Colombian aid bill?"  
  
"He can't get near him. The Senator is very guarded," Fornell said, with a frustrated look. "He won't communicate directly with anyone, as a safeguard against any hint of misconduct on his part. Harding uses his aide, Briggs, as a buffer, and it's extremely difficult to get past Briggs to get an audience with the senator. However, our friend DiNozzo is tight with Senator Harding, so we're using his connection to get us in. Just like Torres is trying to do." Fornell caught Gibbs and Franks exchanging a dubious look, so he demanded, "What?"  
  
Mike Franks crossed his arms over his chest and asked, "Oh, I'm trying to figure out what the hell makes you sink so low as to trust a rat like DiNozzo."  
  
Fornell sent Franks a look of disbelief. "Hell, I don't trust DiNozzo any further than I can throw him, but he's all we've got. We need him to connect Torres with the senator, and once those two shake hands on any kind of deal I'll be ready with the handcuffs, believe me. I've been after Torres for far too long to let anything mess this up."  
  
Mike Franks indicated that Agents Pacci and Burley should join him at the far end of the director's office, to review the photos and floor plans of the Excelsior Grande Hotel, and Senator Harding's DC estate, which were laid out on a large table. "We're gonna be runnin' at full throttle when we go in, so let's make sure we know our way around these places blindfolded," Franks instructed his agents.  
  
Gibbs drank some of his coffee then asked Fornell, "So Torres wants to meet Senator Harding to personally ensure that he votes down the upcoming bill? This one politician can make it sink or swim? That's an awful lot of power for one man to have."  
  
Fornell pointed out, "Don't underestimate Harding's influence on the Hill. He plays poker regularly with the Secretary of the Navy and a Supreme Court judge, he's very well liked and most of the senators heed what he says. There are even rumors Harding has his eye on the Oval Office, which is another good reason for him to keep his distance from old friends like Torres. Trouble is that the senator has been scheming with DiNozzo for years, supplying him with insider information, influencing bills, always on the edge of criminal activity but never actually getting his hands dirty. And through DiNozzo he connects to Torres, and the financial rewards are huge for all of them. Together they form a nice triumvirate," he said sarcastically.  
  
"You know all this but you've never been able to get anything on Harding?" Gibbs accused.  
  
"Not yet," said Fornell, his face lighting up with a slow grin. "But we got something on DiNozzo Sr." Before Gibbs could ask, the FBI agent raised a hand and said, "It's need to know, but let me just say that someone out there must really hate the man because they sent us a nice big packet of documents containing enough incriminating evidence against DiNozzo to sink a ship, if you get my drift."  
  
DiNozzo Sr. had made millions by double-crossing his partners, Torres and Harding, by selling the location of the freighter they financed, which was packed full of heavy weapons, to the other side. No matter how careful and secretive DiNozzo had been, Gibbs figured there must be a handful of people who knew of his involvement. But who would have sold DiNozzo out to the feds rather than blackmail him? Apparently, whoever it was, his hatred for DiNozzo Sr. was more a hell of a lot more powerful than his desire for money.  
  
Gibbs' thoughts went immediately to Tony. Jesus…Tony…no, he wouldn't have…or would he? Tony, smart kid that he was, knew all about his father's dirty dealings, and how it would only take a word in the wrong ear and his father would be taken out – permanently. Would Tony have handed the FBI evidence he'd collected as a way of getting rid of his father? Gibbs had accused Tony of playing with fire and being in danger of getting burned. What was it that Tony had replied?  
  
 _'You know I don't mind a little burn, Jethro.'_  
  
Fornell interrupted Gibbs' thoughts when he took him aside and asked, in a voice low enough so the other occupants in the room couldn’t overhear him, "So what's with the Big Brother routine with the DiNozzo kid, Gibbs? Isn't taking Anthony Jr. home going above and beyond the call of duty?"  
  
Gibbs had known the question was coming ever since Franks had told him that the FBI had been doing surveillance on Tony's father, and had shot photos of Tony, too. But even so, coming up with an adequate response to explain why he'd taken Tony under his wing was harder than Gibbs had anticipated. In the end Gibbs met Fornell's questioning look head on, and said simply, "He needs a friend right now." If Tony had turned his father in to the feds, he was going to need a hell of a lot more than just a friend. If the senator – or the mob – found out, Senior would be dead in a heartbeat, and they just might take Tony out at the same time. For the first time since he could remember, Gibbs was scared.  
  
"I think you're the best friend that kid could ever have, Gibbs," said Fornell, nodding in understanding.  
  
Gibbs understood that Fornell was sympathetic to Tony's plight, but the FBI must have had a good idea of Senior's treatment of his son if they'd been doing surveillance for an extended period of time. "You look the other way when that asshole was hurting Tony?" Gibbs accused.  
  
Fornell protested, "Hey, we never saw anything out of line, Gibbs, but believe me, if we had, I'd have dealt with it personally. If that jerk-off had been my father," he said with a look of disgust, "I'd have taken care of him long ago. Don't know how Anthony has turned out as good as he has."  
  
"Tony," Gibbs said tersely. "His name is Tony."  
  
Fornell studied the NCIS agent and then said slowly, "Tony. I'll remember that."  
  
On the off chance, Gibbs asked Fornell, "You speak Italian?"  
  
"Sure. Mama was from the old country and I'm north-end-of-Boston born and bred."  
"What's 'oggi a te domani…' mean?" Gibbs shrugged at his pronunciation. He was better at French and Russian.  
  
"Oggi a te domani a me? Today to you, tomorrow to me. Sorta like 'every dog has its day.'" Fornell narrowed his eyes. "This something DiNozzo said?" He shook his head in disgust. "You can see it inscribed on tombstones, with an image of Death. It's to remind people of their mortality and to be ready to meet their Maker. Guess he's sending you a warning," Fornell said with a grim smile.  
  
Gibbs recited something in Russian, and at Fornell's quizzical look, he translated with a grin, "All are not cooks that walk with long knives."  
  
***end chapter 31***


	32. Line of Sight

It would take a whole hell of a lot more to psyche Gibbs out than having DiNozzo curse him, in Italian or in any other language. Still, Tony's father managed to piss Gibbs off by his presence alone. Gibbs took a couple of deep breaths and tried to relax. He needed to slow down and maintain his focus if he was going to get through this op in one piece.

Gibbs glanced over at his boss, and then at his team members who had their heads together studying the layout of Senator Harding's estate. Pacci and Burley were asking questions of Mike Franks, and they were going over the details of their assignments, which was exactly what he should be doing, too. Before Gibbs went over to join them he turned to Fornell to ask him something that had been bugging him ever since Burley had brought it up earlier that day. "You have any idea why Senator Harding retired early from the Navy?"

Fornell raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Thought you Navy cops knew everything that went on within your own branch."

Gibbs scowled and retorted, "If I knew, I wouldn’t be askin', would I? It was before my time and the records are sealed."

Fornell held out his hands defensively. "Fine. You didn't hear this from me, but the lowdown is that Harding ran into a heap of trouble when his affair with another officer…uh…escalated."

"Escalated?"

"Harding said it was consensual but the other officer – a man – had to be hospitalized." Fornell tapped his temple with a couple of fingers. "The guy never fully recovered." He looked around and lowered his voice. "There was a scene that involved a carpet beater and autoerotic asphyxiation."

It was Gibbs' turn to raise his eyebrows. "Familiar territory, Fornell?"

"Don't give me any grief, Gibbs," Fornell said irritably. "A kidnapping investigation took us into a sex club last year and I learned more about that kinky stuff than I could ever want to know," Fornell admitted. "Anyway, there was a Naval hearing and Harding was forced out, though whether it was for being gay or for what he did to the other man, it's been kept under wraps for years."

And it would probably never see the light of day, and all the records will conveniently disappear, thought Gibbs, especially if Senator Harding planned on running for President. He couldn’t refrain from poking a little at Fornell. "Learn anything useful at the sex club, Fornell?"

Fornell kept a straight face when he replied, "Sure, Gibbs. I learned all about knots, gags, and implements of torture."

Gibbs snorted. "Sounds like you'll have plenty to talk about with Senator Harding once you have him in custody. Oh yeah, I forgot," he said mockingly. "He's gonna be in _our_ custody, and I'm the one who's gonna show him what it feels like to get his ass nailed to the wall. And I'll bet that Torres is just about as vanilla as they come and he won't be half as entertaining."

"Well, I didn't aim to experience Harding's kinks personally, Gibbs," Fornell responded. After a pause, appearing decidedly uneasy, he grew serious and said, "Look, we've got this op all set up and ready to roll, but now I'm not all that confident that, uh, DiNozzo's going to play ball."

Gibbs stared at Fornell for a long moment before he asked, " _Now_ you tell us?"

Fornell shrugged and shifted his weight. "He says he's working with us but so far it's been mostly lip service. All hearsay, no hard evidence. I'm concerned that he's going to somehow let the cat out of the bag as soon as he gets a chance to talk to the senator, and we'll get royally screwed. Sure, we'll be monitoring him closely but it wouldn't take much for him to tip off his old buddy, to let him know that we're setting up a trap, would it? I sort of wonder if DiNozzo shares more with Senator Harding than just being fraternity brothers and business associates, you know? This is too important a case for us to risk messing it up by using DiNozzo."

"Coulda told you that." Gibbs had known from the start that DiNozzo Sr. was not the best man to go in and get the goods on Senator Harding. Unfortunately, being right didn't make the situation any better, and he was exasperated that the FBI had trusted DiNozzo, with his reputation as a high-end con man, in the first place. "Your man DiNozzo has already tried to place a phone call, from the conference room," Gibbs told Fornell. The boys in MTAC could figure out who DiNozzo had tried to phone; they'd have picked up the attempt to place a call even if the actual transmission was blocked.

Fornell asked in alarm, "Who the hell let him make a phone call?"

Gibbs said, "He was in the conference room and it didn't go through. Agent Shepard has now relieved DiNozzo of his phone."

Fornell ran a hand over his mouth. "Shit. Look, someone was always watching him, and I let him hang onto his cell because he needed it to call Harding and Torres this afternoon."

Gibbs glared at Fornell and didn't bother to lower his voice when he said, "I aim to collar Harding for kidnapping and murder, and even if it would be a nice little bonus to slip the handcuffs on DiNozzo at the same time, he's not the focus here. I want Senator Harding – and I want him so damned bad I can taste it. Now we have another young sailor missing, and there's a good chance that if we move fast he'll still be alive, but we have to get it right on the first strike."

Mike Franks came over to support Gibbs and said vehemently to the FBI agent, "If confidence is low on DiNozzo, then deep-six him and work up another plan – right now! Let's put our heads together so we can catch these bastards and be done with it."

At that moment Director Morrow strode into his office and joined them, his expression dark and inflexible. He went directly to Agent Fornell, got right in his face, and said with a growl, "I did _not_ rise to the position of director of this agency, Agent Fornell, by trusting anyone who walks in the door simply because they're wearing a badge."

Fornell narrowed his eyes and asked, "What, you saying don't trust me, Director Morrow?"

Morrow declared, "Damn right! I don't trust you or your agency, Agent Fornell." Fornell was obviously affronted, but before he could respond, Morrow jerked his thumb over his shoulder at his MCRT agents, who were moving in to stand behind him as a sign of their solidarity, and said, " _They're_ the only ones I trust. _My_ agents. _My_ men." He turned to the NCIS agents and said to them, "There's going to be a change to our plans. We're not using Mr. DiNozzo."

Fornell raised his voice in protest. "Hey, wait a minute! What're you talking about? You can't just take over and change my op–."

Morrow rounded on the FBI agent and said with force, "I have every right to run my own investigation any way I want, Fornell, and right from the start I made it clear that with or without the FBI's assistance and cooperation, NCIS would proceed as we see fit."

Special Agent Franks stepped up to Morrow's side, and sent Fornell a dangerous glare. Franks asked, "What's goin' on, Director?"

"MTAC intercepted a transmission a short time ago, from DiNozzo's phone," Morrow told his lead agent. "One that got through."

Gibbs asked, "How the hell'd he do that?" DiNozzo had purposely been held in the conference room where outgoing phone calls were blocked.

Fornell demanded, "Where the hell was Agent Shepard when this was going on?"

A thought struck Gibbs and he said, "Wait…Jenny took him to the men's room to clean off the blood."

Franks looked at Gibbs hopefully and asked, "What blood? She shoot him or something?"

"No, Tony clipped him in the nose after you left," Gibbs said absently. "I should've taken Senior's phone away from him myself, damn it." DiNozzo must have made a call from the lavatory when Jenny wasn't watching him. She probably let him go into the men's room on his own, thinking that standing guard at the door was sufficient. "Always keep the target in your line of sight," Gibbs muttered to himself.

Fornell asked Director Morrow, "Who'd DiNozzo call?"

The director said, "The techs in MTAC say that his first two calls, from the conference room, never went through. He was trying to reach his pilot. However, what did go through about twenty minutes later was a text message." Because his men were starting to ask questions at the same time, Morrow quickly explained, "They're still working on finding out the content of the message." He said impatiently, "Something about servers and tracing the initiating route to capture the text formatting. So far all they know for certain is that the text went through – to Senator Harding's personal phone number."

The phone on Morrow's desk rang at that moment and the director picked it up immediately. During the brief conversation he jotted down some notes on a pad of paper.

Gibbs turned away to hide his frustration and anger at the situation. Damn Jenny for letting DiNozzo use the men's room without keeping her eye on him at all times. "A damned probie mistake," he muttered.

While the director was busy talking on the phone, Franks leaned close to Gibbs and asked in a low voice, "Hey, where'd you stash the kid?"

Gibbs responded, "Safe with Ducky," and made his way over to the coffee machine. God, what he needed right now, apart from more coffee, was a generous dose of Tony. He imagined Tony's arms wrapping around his waist, those talented fingers slipping up under his shirt to massage his taut muscles, easing the built-up tension as only Tony could do. Gibbs drank a big gulp of black coffee and sighed. Later, he thought. Later he'd take Tony home where it was safe and quiet, and he'd lock the damned door and make love to his boy all night long, and he'd let him know exactly how much he wanted him.

Morrow finished his phone call and from his grim expression whatever it was he'd learned was not good news, so Gibbs turned his attention back to work, where it belonged.

Morrow faced his team and Fornell. "MTAC has confirmed that as soon as DiNozzo left the secure room, he managed to send a text message to Senator Harding, telling him," he said with a glance at the piece of paper in his hand, "that it was urgent that they meet at the Excelsior Hotel."

Gibbs moved into the circle of agents who surrounded the director, and stood between Pacci and Franks. He asked, "Did Harding reply to the message?"

"Do we know that Harding even saw it?" Pacci asked at the same time.

"No, he made no reply," Morrow said. "Although DiNozzo didn't say anything in his text message to let on that he's being held in federal custody, the urgency of his message would surely alert Harding that something was going on." He looked at Gibbs when he said, "It looks like DiNozzo also informed the senator he'd be bringing 'Junior' along for him."

So DiNozzo Sr., that devious piece of shit, was arranging a meeting with Senator Harding – _Sir_ – and he intended to hand Tony over to him. Gibbs clenched his teeth and wished DiNozzo was there in front of him so he could wring his neck.

DiNozzo was finally following through on the threat he'd used to keep Tony in line for the past four years. Senior knew damned well that Tony was terrified of Sir. He was also well aware of the danger that Sir posed to Tony, should he ever get his hands on him. Apparently that knowledge wasn't enough to prevent DiNozzo from handing his own son over to a serial rapist and killer. "I am gonna kill DiNozzo," Gibbs swore under his breath.

Franks said to Gibbs, "Easy, Cowboy. The kid's safe so long as he's with us."

Morrow's voice cut through Gibbs's thoughts when he said, "Fornell, you should never have wasted our time with DiNozzo. However, this doesn't change the fact that we still have a sailor missing, and need to get the judge to sign off on a warrant to search Harding's estate. There's only one judge who can issue any warrants on this case, and that's Judge Eldridge. He won't sign off on a warrant for Senator Harding unless we can give him a rock-solid reason: conspiring with a major mob figure or evidence of kidnapping or murder would be a good start. Anyone have any bright ideas how we can get any of this?"

Fornell cleared his throat and suggested cautiously, "We could stick to the original plan, sir. We invite the senator, and Torres, too, to come to the hotel tonight. In exchange for making sure the Colombian bill gets voted down, Torres is offering to donate millions of dollars to support Senator Harding's bid for the Presidency, through untainted donors, and we know Harding's greedy enough to at least want to talk to him about it."

Morrow asked Fornell, "You think you can control DiNozzo long enough to get him to make a call? And to not give Harding any hint of a warning?"

"I can't guarantee it, but neither Harding nor Torres answers their own phones, so DiNozzo Sr. would be talking to Briggs and to Torres' lieutenant, Rick Azari, and he's just some young punk." Fornell added with a little smile, "Besides, we have something that Harding's been hankering after for years. He'll come if we offer the right incentive. Torres is eager for the meeting, so he's not a problem." With a slight shrug, Fornell said, "If we up the ante a little, Harding will come."

Franks narrowed his eyes at the FBI agent and asked, "And what the hell kinda incentive is gonna assure that the senator risks everything and turns up at DiNozzo's hotel on such short notice?"

Before Fornell could even open his mouth to respond, Gibbs knew exactly what the man was going to say. His heart pounded in his ears and suddenly he couldn't breathe. Fornell knew, he _knew_ , damn it, how dangerous this was. No, no, he was not going to suggest it! Do _not_ say it, Fornell, because Morrow will agree just to get this case wrapped up.

Fornell looked Director Morrow in the eye and said, "Let's give him what he damned well wants, Director. Senator Harding's been trying for years to get hold of DiNozzo's boy. Just give him the kid – Tony Jr."

Furious, Gibbs shouted, "No!"  He surged forward and shoved Fornell to the wall even as Pacci and Franks grabbed his arms to prevent him from killing Fornell with his bare hands.

****end chapter 32***


	33. Inflexible

Gibbs stood at attention facing Director Morrow's desk and waited for everyone to clear out of the office, knowing he was about to get a reprimand for roughing up FBI Agent Fornell. The FBI agent wasn't much the worse for wear considering Gibbs had shoved him hard against a wall, but even so, Fornell was rubbing the back of his head and glaring at his attacker. Gibbs returned the black look with a glare of his own, not backing down one inch, and making it damned clear that nobody was going to put Tony in harm's way. _Nobody_.

Director Morrow ignored the two men's blatant animosity and ordered, "Agent Franks, take DiNozzo Sr. to interrogation. I want to know what he's up to." Morrow said to Fornell, "Agent Fornell, you go with him. I know you won't have any problem with Special Agent Franks being the lead on this interrogation."

Fornell clearly wasn't pleased to be relegated to being a backup man, but he knew enough not to buck the director of NCIS in his own house. Disgruntled, he followed Mike Franks, who was smiling in anticipation of taking on DiNozzo Sr.

Franks ushered Pacci and Burley ahead of him. "You men head down to the bullpen," Franks instructed his agents. "Get Shepard to help you find whatever rock Senator Harding is hiding under. And find Torres' man, Rick Azari, if you can't locate Torres himself. He's never far from Torres." He slung one arm around Fornell's shoulders and grinned as they headed down the hall. "You and I are gonna have some fun but I hafta stop and grab a phone book first."

Franks stopped in the doorway and looked back at Gibbs, who hadn't moved from his spot in front of Morrow's desk, and inquired, "I _am_ gonna get my agent back sometime, aren't I, Director?"

Morrow said, in a tone that didn't invite any further discussion, "When I'm finished with him."

Franks grunted in reply and left. As soon as the door closed behind the senior agent, and Gibbs and the director were alone, Gibbs asked, "Permission to speak freely, sir?"

"Permission denied, Agent Gibbs." Morrow seated himself behind his desk and motioned for Gibbs to take a chair opposite him. Once Gibbs was sitting, albeit with a ramrod-straight back, the director said, "Good thing Franks and Pacci were so quick to get you off of Fornell, or else I'd be having a hard time explaining what went down to the director of the FBI, and I'd be filling out a 'death of a federal employee' form in triplicate. That's a D-4095 isn't it?" When Gibbs sat unrepentantly and didn't say anything in his defense, Morrow looked over his agent with concern. "What the hell were you thinking, Gunny? It's not like you to lose your cool like that. I've seen you under fire plenty of times and you never turn a hair."

That's because he'd never had anyone like Tony to defend before. Gibbs knew he was lucky that Pacci and Franks had pulled him off Agent Fornell when they did – or maybe it was Fornell who was the lucky one. He'd been in such a rage he wanted to hurt Fornell for suggesting, so carelessly, that they should just up and give Tony to Harding, as if Tony was some kind of tool at their disposal. Gibbs reined in his temper when it threatened to rise once again; this wasn't at all like his normal, in-control self and it bothered him. "We can't use Tony, Director."

Morrow raised his eyebrows and waited for an explanation, so Gibbs chose his words carefully. "Tony has a history with Senator Harding, and I know that if he gets his hands on him, Harding is going to…damage him." Gibbs realized with disgust that he'd used Senior's own word: damage.

_Tony had said, "Dad made him give me back, said he didn't want me damaged like that. I think Dad was sorta disturbed by the whole scene. Even though he was waiting in the next room while his best friend was beating and fucking his kid."_

Sitting back in his chair, Director Morrow studied Gibbs. He didn't speak for a long time – long enough for Gibbs to consider explaining to his boss exactly why Tony would never voluntarily go anywhere near Harding. Even if Gibbs didn't have the right to disclose to his boss that Harding had raped Tony four years earlier, he'd tell all if it meant keeping Tony out of a potentially dangerous situation.

When Morrow finally spoke, he sounded surprisingly understanding. "It's apparent that you care about the young man in question, Gibbs."

Gibbs was suddenly afraid that his affection – his _craving_ – for Tony was apparent, but the director's next words allayed his concern.

Morrow said, "Your skill as an investigator, your instincts, they're just about the best I've ever seen, Gibbs, and this agency is damned lucky to have you on its team. Special Agent Franks has said so more than once." He peered at Gibbs and said, "Now, I understand that Tony DiNozzo Jr. respects you as his mentor, and that you're watching his back, which is commendable. You see something worthwhile in Tony and in return he trusts you to watch out for his best interests. But right now it appears that Tony holds the key to getting Senator Harding into that hotel suite at the Excelsior alongside Torres. You know a well as I do that Judge Eldridge isn't going to give us a warrant if there is any doubt."

Gibbs protested, "I don't want Fornell using Tony as a damned lure. He's a civilian, and barely eighteen years old. We can come up with some alternative…"

"No." Morrow shook his head, a firm expression replacing the more sympathetic manner he'd had only a minute earlier. "We have a small window of opportunity here, Gibbs, and we can't squander it. I've discovered that the senator is scheduled to head to the Bahamas for a vacation in a few days, during the Senate recess, and Torres is only in DC for a short time. I've decided that it will be in everyone's best interest to use Tony DiNozzo, _if_ he will agree to work with us."

"Director, how the hell can it be in Tony's best interest–"

"I've made my decision, Agent Gibbs."

"Tony won't agree do it," Gibbs said insistently, knowing that Tony would refuse. He was treading on dangerous ground by questioning his director's decision but he wasn't about to step aside and allow them to use Tony like this. "The FBI will do anything to get Alonzo Torres put behind bars, and if Fornell handles Tony, he's gonna get hurt."

"Oh, I have no intention of letting Fornell be his handler. _You're_ going to be handling Tony during this op. In fact, I want you at the Excelsior to ensure our surveillance techs cover every angle of the suite and the hallway. We can't afford to have any blunders." Before Gibbs could respond, there was a knock on the office door and Morrow called, "Enter." He looked past Gibbs and said, "Come on in, son."

Gibbs didn't have to turn to know that Tony had entered the room, and he sensed the young man wasn't alone. When Gibbs rose and turned, it was to find Ducky accompanying Tony. Tony looked a little pale but he walked straight across the room towards the director, with his chin up and a resolute look in his eyes, as if he was on a mission. Gibbs' stomach twisted into a knot; something was going on and he'd been left out of the loop, he was sure.

Ducky said, in his usual polite manner, "Director, here we are, as requested. I've been entertaining young Anthony with a little game that involves guessing the weight of various organs during an autopsy. The spleen–"

Gibbs frowned, thinking that it was no wonder that Tony looked pale.

Tony said, with a queasy expression on his face, "The spleen weighs 150 to 170 grams. Yeah, it was almost as entertaining as that kid's game 'Operation,' Ducky." Tony turned to Gibbs, and as soon as their eyes met a smile lit up Tony's face. "You ever play that game? I always set the buzzer off when I tried to get the charley horse out of the leg. Of course you wouldn’t know about it. I'm sure you never played silly board games. You were probably out playing Marine with live ammo. Bet you ate K-rations instead of Pop-Tarts." Gibbs glowered at Tony, who quickly said, "Okay, shutting up now."

Tony stood there, tall and lean, his hair sticking out at all angles, the tips almost blond under the bright office lights. His green eyes were twinkling in a way that made Gibbs aware that Tony didn't look at just anyone in that special way, and it caused Gibbs' heart to beat fast in response. God, how he wanted to reach out and pull Tony into his arms, to feel his strong, young body, all hard planes and taut muscles, leaning into him. Gibbs watched as Tony's eyes widened a little as he read his mind, and Gibbs couldn’t resist a smirk in response.

"I'll be seeking an assistant in the not too distant future," Ducky said temptingly.

Tony pulled a face and said, "I'll pass, thanks all the same, Ducky. I don't think I want to become a doctor, after all." At Gibbs' skeptical look, Tony explained, "I told Dr. Mallard I was considering going into dermatology. Good hours and no emergencies. No eviscerated patients on metal tables, either." He gave Ducky an apologetic shrug. "Going to stick to what I know – sports."

"That's all right, my boy," Ducky replied fondly. "I'm sure you'll excel at whatever career you choose to pursue."

Morrow came around his desk and perched his hip on its edge. He indicated that Tony should take a seat near to him. "Let's talk business. Dr. Mallard, you'll stay?"

"Of course," Ducky replied.

Gibbs, still standing, offered his chair to Ducky with a curt nod. Ducky accepted the seat but sent Gibbs a look to indicate he was well aware that Gibbs felt that sitting would put him at a disadvantage. Gibbs positioned himself at Tony's eight-o'clock, where he could observe the young man without being intrusive. Tony turned his head and shot a quick look Gibbs' way to make sure he was close and then visibly relaxed when the older man placed a hand on his shoulder. "I'm right here," Gibbs said in a low voice.

Director Morrow said to Tony, "Ever since we had our brief discussion earlier, Tony, I've been thinking about what you said. I believe that your help may prove to be invaluable, but I do want to stress that you're under no obligation to work with us."

Gibbs tensed, realizing now why Morrow had so readily agreed with Fornell's proposition that they use Tony in the op – the director had already talked to Tony about it, without Gibbs being there, damn it! Gibbs, composing his features into a rigid mask, swallowed his anger at the director for going behind his back. That's the way he saw it, even if Morrow had every right to approve or reject any facet of an NCIS operation. Gibbs had known Tom Morrow ever since his days as an MP, back at Lejeune, and although they had the same goals, that didn't mean they agreed with each other's methods.

Tony looked straight at Morrow and said in a strong and determined voice, "I haven't changed my mind, Director Morrow. I want to help."

Morrow took a moment to explain to Gibbs, "We met outside MTAC earlier when Ducky was giving Tony a tour, and we had a brief talk. He's a smart young man, Agent Gibbs, and seems to have a good grasp of the situation."

Ducky cleared his throat and asked, "And what is it that you expect Anthony to do, Director?"

Gibbs folded his arms across his chest and grunted, wanting to know the details, too.

"The plan," said Morrow, "is for Tony to open the door of his father's suite at the Excelsior, and invite the senator and Mr. Torres in. That's all."

Gibbs let out a derisive huff. "Assuming they even turn up. And you think DiNozzo Sr. can be trusted to get Harding and Torres to come over tonight?"

Morrow nodded. "With a speakerphone and a script, yes, I think he'll do it. Under our watchful eye, of course. So Tony invites our two suspects in. We don't expect that either of the men will be alarmed, as they've both met Tony before. He'll say that father was called out but will return in fifteen minutes, which is a short enough wait. While they're waiting with a drink in hand, you know they're going to have a conversation. Surveillance will be in place, recording everything."

"That's all?" Gibbs asked warily, still not liking it at all.

Morrow added, "And Tony will be wearing a wire as backup."

Tony turned his head at that point to look over his shoulder at Gibbs. "I can do this, Gibbs." Despite his apparent confidence, Tony's eyes held an appeal for Gibbs' approval.

Gibbs, however, was not about to consent to what he considered a foolhardy and dangerous proposal. "The stakes are too high," he growled, looking straight at the director, making his disapproval clear. "What happens if either of those men figure out it's a trap? Or they discover Tony's wearing a wire? How long do you think Tony'll hold out if they decide to cut their losses and take him out? Harding is a suspected murderer and a rapist, and Torres murdered two FBI agents only a few months ago. Cut their damned heads clean off! What makes you think either one of them will hesitate, for even one second, to kill someone if they feel cornered?"

Director Morrow rose to his feet, faced his agent, and reasoned in an even tone, "You and the FBI's surveillance team will be across the hall from DiNozzo's suite, Gibbs. Anything bad goes down and you can be right there."

"And in the ten seconds it'll take us to get over there, _anything_ could happen," Gibbs countered.

Ducky turned towards Gibbs and said, "Jethro–"

Gibbs cut him off, saying, "Dr. Mallard! This boy's life is going to be in jeopardy the second those men step into that room. You can't honestly think that someone as inexperienced as Tony is going to be able to pull this off!" He could feel Tony's eyes on him, his disappointment palpable, but Gibbs refused to be swayed by anyone, even Tony.

"I think you don't give Anthony half the credit he deserves, Agent Gibbs," retorted Ducky.

The director held out his hands in a placating gesture. "Enough, gentlemen! I need to talk to Tony alone for a couple of minutes. Please wait outside."

Gibbs was on the point of refusing to leave when Tony stood and faced him. With a hand on Gibbs' arm, Tony urged him to walk to the other side of the room so they could speak privately. He said earnestly in an undertone, "Gibbs, I can do this–"

Gibbs glowered at Tony and said inflexibly, "I'm responsible for you, Tony, for your welfare, your safety, so there is _no way_ I'm going to condone this." Gibbs would do anything to prevent Tony from having to face Sir, but he had to get across to Tony how dangerous this operation was going to be.

"But Jethro, you told me I needed to do the right thing," Tony insisted. "You said I had to choose the right road, and that's what I'm doing here. For once I can use my talents for something good. Don't you see that? Don't you want me to be responsible and stand for something important – for once in my life?"

Of course he did, but Gibbs couldn't bear the thought of Tony being hurt – or worse. Gibbs wanted, so badly, to explain his feelings by touching his young lover, to let him know through physical contact that Tony was everything to him, that he couldn’t handle losing him. He wanted to protect him, to keep him safe. Gibbs looked into Tony's eyes and saw the hope in their depths, the expectation that Gibbs would understand and believe in him. Instead, without any forethought, Gibbs leaned in close and whispered harshly in Tony's ear, "You do this and we're finished."

Tony inhaled sharply in disbelief and backed up a step.

Gibbs immediately regretted making the spur-of-the-moment threat. God, the last thing he wanted to do was to be the one to hurt Tony, but if that's what it took to keep him safe, then that was the way he'd play it.

"Jethro," Tony whispered. "You don't mean that…you can't…"

Gibbs could barely meet Tony's eyes, knowing it was he who'd crushed Tony's expectations and hopes – and probably his love, too. But then Tony's face changed and hardened, and what Gibbs saw made him very afraid for his boy. It was the kind of determined look that Gibbs had seen before, in combat, when wet-behind-the-ears young men discovered, for the first time, a sense of deep courage and resolve that they'd never known they'd possessed. It was the kind of spirit that all-too often got those young men in way over their heads – into the kind of situations that got them shipped home in a flag-draped metal casket.

He couldn’t relent, for Tony's sake. Even if it meant that Tony hated him for it.

Gibbs grasped Tony's arm in a grip that was sure to hurt. "You tell him you won't do it. You refuse or else we're done." Gibbs ordered, then he released Tony's arm and strode from the director's office, slamming the door behind him.

***end chapter 33***


	34. Plans

Gibbs paced the bullpen, antsy to get out of there so that he could do what he did best, which was conducting an investigation out in the field and literally running down the damned criminals. He had to keep moving, keep working, in order to stop feeling so guilty, and to damned-well get Tony's disillusioned green eyes out of his mind.

***

Pacci had already brought the team up to speed on the disappearance of Petty Officer Charlie Kovaks, missing from Norfolk since the previous night. They'd gone over everything multiple times – the movements of the victim, his personal history, his friends and enemies – and they were no further forward than they were an hour ago.

Gibbs was sure that Kovacs, a 19-year-old described by his CO as a decent, fun-loving kid, who was the captain of the wrestling team, was most likely being raped and tortured at that very moment in Harding's bedroom or basement dungeon, or in whatever hole he did his dirty work. Gibbs didn't care that they had no proof that Senator Harding had any hand in the serial kidnappings and murders, because Gibbs knew. He _knew_.

For the umpteenth time, Gibbs raised his eyes to the balcony, expecting to see Tony walking out of the director's office; for the umpteenth time, Gibbs was disappointed. Where the hell was he and what was taking so long?

***

"Kovacs was last seen by his buddies at dinner, at 1800," Pacci said. "He left the base and headed out to a sports bar he frequented but never arrived there." He put Kovac's record up on the screen. The young serviceman, who was blond and had the muscular neck and shoulders of a wrestler, appeared relaxed in his military ID photo, with the hint of a smile about his blue eyes.

Good-looking though nothing outstanding, thought Gibbs. There was nothing to tie any of the victims together other than their youth, their military status, and the fact that they were all athletic. Gibbs wondered if the senator picked out the young men himself, or if he relied upon Briggs to hunt them down and drug them with the date rape drug that their forensic scientist, Chen, had found in the two bodies they'd recovered. "Renders the subject compliant," Chen had said said.

Stan Burley completed a phone conversation and once he'd hung up he reported, "Metro still hasn't located Kovac's vehicle but there's a citywide BOLO on it so it should turn up."

Gibbs glared at Stan and demanded, " _Should_? Not good enough. Make it statewide." He turned to Jenny while Stan scrambled to comply. "What you got on Briggs?"

Jenny, who had been tracking Briggs' cell phone, and mapping his whereabouts, referred to her computer. "Records show that Briggs turned off his phone last night at 1800 hours, so we have no idea about his movements after he left Senator Harding's office. The senator was tied up in a meeting, late afternoon on, and didn't move. Stan called a friend at the Senate and it's been confirmed that the senator was in that meeting until midnight."

Gibbs nodded in Stan's direction. He was glad that Stan still had connections from when he was a senator's aide, and was confident that the young agent had been discreet in his inquiries. Unfortunately, the Lookout serial killer case was dead in the water unless some vital information turned up, or an eyewitness came forward. Gibbs did not hold out hope for either of those to drop in their lap. Now everything rested upon coercing Senator Harding to turn up at DiNozzo's hotel, and for the senator to say something incriminating enough to give them grounds for a warrant.

***

The team was waiting for Franks and Fornell to emerge from interrogation, where the two hard-assed agents had been cozying up with DiNozzo Sr. for almost an hour. Jenny Shepard, seated at her desk, asked nobody in particular, "Think they'll have to call in the janitorial crew when they're done with him?"

Stan peered at his monitor and tensed. "Guess we'll find out any minute. They're coming out of interrogation now."

Gibbs stopped his pacing to look over Stan's shoulder, and Pacci joined him to view the program running on the computer. Even though Gibbs hated just about everything technical, he'd used the phone-tracer program a few times and had a pretty good handle on how it worked. Not that he let on that he knew how to operate the damned thing. Best to let the junior agents do the techie work. The program was busy tracking several cell phones on a grid of the DC area. Several red dots were flashing with phone numbers next to them, though most of them were currently stationary.

Stan glanced over his shoulder at Gibbs and then pointed to his screen. "That's the cell phone belonging to Briggs. He's in the senate office building on Hart Street. This one's Torres' right-hand man, Azari. Looks like he's currently at the Lima Restaurant over on K Street. You ever been there? It's like being in South Beach."

Pacci nodded and asked, "Man, have you ever tried their Chilean sea bass?" He saw Gibbs glaring at him and made himself small. "Just saying it's great food."  He cleared his throat and got back to the case. "Do we assume that Torres is with him?"

Gibbs skewered Pacci with his eyes and said acidly, "Assume nothing, question everything."

Pacci asked, "Uh, so do we tell the FBI we have a fix on Azari?"

"Only if they ask," said Gibbs. He wasn't about to hand anything over to the FBI – not information, and certainly not Tony. He took a moment to check out the balcony again but there was still no sign of Tony.

Shepard elbowed her way between the men and touched the red dot that was moving across a second window on the computer screen that showed the floor plan of NCIS headquarters. "Who does that phone belong to?"

"That's DiNozzo Sr.'s cell phone, which is in Agent Fornell's possession because he's taken custody of it," Stan said, sending the redhead an irritated look.

Jenny sneered at Stan and raised her chin. "And what was I supposed to do, Burley? Watch Mr. DiNozzo take a leak? How was I to know he'd whip out his phone instead of his dick as soon as he went into the men's room?"

Stan turned back to his computer and responded to Jenny's rebuttal with a roll of his eyes. They often squabbled in a sibling-rivalry kind of way but they were partners when in the field, and bought each other coffee and sometimes went out for drinks after work. It was Gibbs who replied, saying harshly to Jenny, "Damn right you should have kept him in your sights the whole time, Agent Shepard. Haven't you learned anything? Anticipate, and always–"

"–and always have a back-up plan," Franks said loudly as he strode into the bullpen, a lit cigarette hanging from his lips. "Rule number 28…or something. I can never remember those damned numbers. Okay cowboys, we're ready to roll." He barked out orders and the agents scurried to collect their weapons and their gear, including a mobile version of the phone-tracking system.

Gibbs hesitated, worrying about where Tony could be. Franks had returned alone; Agent Fornell and DiNozzo Sr. were nowhere to be seen, which worried Gibbs almost as much as Tony being out of his sight. He'd be safe with Director Morrow but what the hell was taking him so long to come out of the director's office?

Pacci, Burley and Shepard headed for the elevator, casting concerned glances at Gibbs as they passed by him.

Gibbs felt someone's eyes burning into his back as he clipped his holster to his belt. He quickly turned and looked up to see Director Morrow on the mezzanine, leaning on the railing and watching the agents below. Morrow met Gibbs' eyes, gave him a nod then pushed off the railing and disappeared into MTAC. Tony wasn't with him, and Gibbs had to suppress the panicky feeling that was starting to churn in his belly. Okay, Tony had been sent down to Ducky, using the director's private elevator…that must be it, thought Gibbs.

Franks stopped at Gibbs' side on his way to join his waiting agents. "Hopin' for an engraved invitation, Gunny?"

Gibbs moved out from behind his desk and barred his boss's way. "Where's Tony?"

Franks looked annoyed and took a drag of his cigarette. Gibbs knew his boss's sour look wasn't intended for him – being confined in a small room with DiNozzo Sr. could make any man ill-tempered. 

"We couldn't get a straight answer out of DiNozzo Sr.," griped Franks. "But then he's had a lifetime of practice at conning people. He kept quoting old movies and talkin' about all these bigwigs he knew, and the fancy places he'd gone to." Franks shook his head in irritation. "I'd say the man is scared of someone – someone who ain't us, 'cause all we got out of him was a lot of fancy talk that ain't worth a plugged nickel. Have to hand it to Fornell though. He got DiNozzo to place those phone calls. Had to twist his arm a little but DiNozzo talked to the senator's man, Briggs, and made it clear he needed to see the senator tonight. Azari didn't answer so DiNozzo had to leave a message."

Gibbs only wanted to know one thing, even though he was afraid he wasn't going to like the answer. "Mike, where the hell is Tony?"

Franks assured Gibbs, "He's fine. The director says your boy's agreed to wear a wire and to let Harding and Torres into the suite when they arrive – if they arrive. Hell, this whole plan hinges on them getting the messages and walking into the trap and you and I both know we're skating on thin ice here. Meanwhile, DiNozzo Sr. is gonna be held across the hall in the FBI's custody." Franks said with a devilish smile, "I told Fornell if he didn't cuff and gag DiNozzo, I'd do it for him." He then grew serious, seeing how Gibbs' jaw was working in frustration. "It's okay, Gibbs. The FBI's taken Tony and his Dad out the back way. They're driving them to the Excelsior in DiNozzo's limo and we're meeting them there. C'mon, let's go."

"You let Fornell take Tony?" Gibbs didn't care that his voice was raised enough for his team members, waiting impatiently by the elevator, to hear him. "He's going to be in the same car as his father? Damn it, Mike, who knows what those two are gonna do to each other?" In the time it would take the limo to drive to DiNozzo's hotel, Senior would most likely mercilessly criticize and demean his son, and Tony would talk back until his father smacked him around.

Gibbs was ready to tear out his hair in frustration. "I never should have walked out on Tony," he muttered under his breath. Never should have been such a butthead, he thought. Giving Tony an ultimatum had been a mistake and Gibbs had known it as soon as the words had tumbled out of his mouth. There was no taking them back, and now Tony was going to risk his life by aiding the feds in this risky set-up.

Franks said, "Hey, the orders came down from the top, Gunny. Morrow has SecNav breathing down his neck to get this over with – quietly. You don't think Morrow would sanction using a civilian unless wasn't being pressured, do you? Don’t forget SecNav is close to Senator Harding and he doesn't want this to hit the morning papers, no matter what the outcome."

"And what if Tony gets killed during this sting?" Gibbs asked bitterly. "They're going to cover that up so it doesn't become front page news?" Franks placed a hand on Gibbs' shoulder in an effort to calm his senior field agent, but Gibbs shook him off and strode to the elevator, barely swallowing his anger.

***

At the Excelsior Hotel, a small crew of FBI techs was busy setting up their surveillance equipment in the rooms they'd commandeered right across the hall from DiNozzo's seventh-floor suite. Special Agents Pacci and Burley immediately started to give the FBI agents a hard time, questioning the range and method of recording any conversations that Tony's hidden microphone picked up. Franks went back downstairs to check out the exits and deal with Excelsior's security staff.

Gibbs barely glanced into the base of operations, and instead headed straight across the corridor to DiNozzo's rooms, with Jenny on his heels. There were only two people in sight, two technicians who were occupied with installing hidden cameras in the vents. On Gibbs' order, Jenny approached them to supervise the placement of the hidden microphones.

The Excelsior was an old hotel that had been recently renovated into an exclusive and very expensive block of extended-stay suites. There were four rooms in DiNozzo's spacious suite, including a living room, small kitchen and dining area with a balcony, and two bedrooms, with every room decorated with upscale furnishings.

Gibbs looked at his watch and saw it was almost six o'clock; according to Franks, Senior had invited Senator Harding and Alonzo Torres to come over at eight. There was plenty of time to get everything set up and to go over the details with Tony, just to be sure he understood that he was not to confront Harding or Torres, under any circumstances. Gibbs was still fuming that Tony had been led into this situation, and he couldn't shake a bad feeling he had about the whole set-up.

Gibbs had a quick look around to find Tony. There was no sign of him, his father, or Agent Fornell, though they must have arrived shortly before the NCIS agents. Gibbs checked out the first bedroom, which was empty; the expensive suits in the closet obviously belonged to Senior and it looked as though he stayed there on a regular basis. Although the FBI agents would have checked the place out as soon as they'd arrived, Gibbs gave the room a quick toss, just to be on the safe side, and determined there were no weapons or cell phones stashed anywhere.

Immediately upon entering the second bedroom, Gibbs knew that it was Tony's from the faint scent of him that lingered in the air. Sitting on the bed was a gym bag containing a couple of textbooks, some toiletries, clothing, and a Walkman with earphones. Gibbs kicked aside a pair of jeans and t-shirt lying in a heap on floor, only to reveal Tony's red briefs. Unable to resist, Gibbs picked up the underwear and held them to his nose. His cock hardened immediately when he got a whiff of Tony's musky smell emanating from the briefs.

When Gibbs heard Fornell's voice out in the hallway giving instructions to one of agents, he quickly dropped Tony's underwear and turned to confront the agent. He still had no remorse for roughing Fornell up for proposing that 'Tony Junior' be used in what could very well be a dangerous operation.

Fornell appeared in the doorway of the bedroom but stopped in his tracks as soon as he came face-to-face Gibbs. The FBI agent tensed and said, "Hey, I was just doing what Morrow told me to do, Gibbs. No hard feelings on my part." Seeing that Gibbs was immovable and unforgiving, Fornell wheedled, "C'mon, we have to work together."

Not about to waste his breath quarrelling with the FBI agent, Gibbs just muttered, "My ass we do," and looked towards the closed door to the bathroom that connected the two bedrooms. There was a sliver of light coming from underneath the door, and signs of movement, indicating that someone was in there. "Tony?" he asked Fornell.

"Yeah, and he's fine, Gibbs," Fornell assured him, without any animosity, though he took a step towards the bathroom to prevent Gibbs from barging in. "Hang on a minute."

Gibbs heard the sound of DiNozzo Sr.'s low voice, and then a softer response coming from the bathroom. He was relieved that Tony was present, and safe – for the time being – but Tony being alone in there with his father made Gibbs nervous. "What the hell's going on?" he demanded of Fornell, in a low voice.

Fornell stood his ground and repeated calmly, "Tony's fine, Gibbs. He asked if his father could be with him." At Gibbs' incredulous look, Fornell shrugged. "Yeah, I know. They were sniping at each other on the way over in the limo but I guess blood's thicker–"

Gibbs interrupted Fornell, growling, "I want to see him. Now."

After hesitating for a couple of seconds, Fornell stepped aside. "Tell you what, I'll go see if the tech has wired Tony's clothing yet, and I'll be back."

Gibbs went to move past Fornell but the agent placed a hand on Gibbs' chest and warned, "And Gibbs? Do us all a favor and try to refrain from killing Senior, okay? Believe me, I know what it's like to have this overwhelming desire to wring the asshole's neck but…" Fornell turned on his heel and left, closing the bedroom door behind him.

Gibbs stood in front of the bathroom door for a moment, wondering what the hell Tony was up to, asking for his father's company. Whereas the voices coming from the bathroom had been muffled previously, now Gibbs could clearly hear Senior saying, "Don't give me any more of your smart mouth, Junior." There was a murmur that Gibbs knew right away was Tony, though he sounded subdued. Tony's father's voice came through loud and clear in comparison. "Yes? Yes…what?"

"Yes, Daddy," Tony said in a world-weary tone, sounding every inch the belligerent teenager. Then, in a slightly strained voice, as if he was asking for something he didn't really want, Tony said, "Can you just get on with it, please, because this isn't exactly comfortable and I'd really like to get this over with and–."

There was the sound of a smack, a hand against bare flesh, and a yelp of surprise.

Without knocking, Gibbs threw open the bathroom door. The scene in the large bathroom was not what he expected to see and, in fact, he was shocked enough by the scene laid out before him that he stood there for a couple of seconds, totally thrown off balance.

Tony was naked, his arms braced against the sink. He was leaning over, bent at the waist with his bare ass exposed, one butt-cheek bearing the red mark from being smacked by an open hand – his father's hand. Tony's legs were spread wide, bare toes curling on the tiled floor; his head was hanging so his hair flopped over his forehead, almost obscuring his eyes which were scrunched up tightly as if he was preparing for the worst.

And there stood DiNozzo Sr., with one broad hand on the small of Tony's back holding him in place. In his other hand Senior held a slick, shiny black butt plug that had to be at least five inches long – and he was inserting it into Tony's anus.

Gibbs wasn't sure what happened next but when he came to his senses he found himself standing over Tony's father, who lay groaning on the bedroom floor, his face bloody and blood splattered the plush hotel-room carpet. There were hands on Gibbs, hauling him off DiNozzo but he fought them off and got in a few good punches to DiNozzo's midsection before a couple of FBI agents dragged DiNozzo's limp body out of the bedroom.

Fornell slammed the bedroom door shut right after DiNozzo had been removed, then barricaded the exit with his body to prevent Gibbs from going after Tony's father. Raising a hand of warning to the advancing NCIS agent, Fornell said loudly, "Enough! Just cool down, Gibbs! There's no way you're getting anywhere near him again, so calm the hell down."

His chest heaving, hands still balled into fists, Gibbs had the feeling that someone was behind him. He quickly turned his murderous gaze away from Fornell, only to find Tony standing in the doorway of the bathroom, naked and pale, staring at him with wide, fearful eyes. It was as if Tony had never really seen Gibbs before, and now he was scared to death of him.

Gibbs was so consumed by the need to kill Tony's father that he couldn't form any words. In the few seconds it took him to regroup and call out hoarsely, "Tony–," the young man had pivoted and retreated to the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

Through the closed door Gibbs thought he heard a sound that might have been sob, and all the fight went out of him. He glanced over his shoulder and saw that Fornell was still standing guard, though he was talking in a low voice into his security microphone. Apparently getting the low-down on DiNozzo's injuries, Gibbs thought with a sneer of disgust. He hoped DiNozzo bled to death though from what he'd seen all the man had suffered was some heavy bruising, a split lip and – hopefully – some broken teeth. Gibbs turned away from the FBI agent, his focus now solely on Tony, where it belonged.

There was no sound coming from the other side of the bathroom door so Gibbs tapped on it and said, "I'm coming in," as he turned the handle and swung the door open. He stood on the threshold of the large, tiled bathroom for a moment. Tony, still naked, was sitting on the closed lid of the toilet, his head in his hands. Gibbs stepped in and closed the door firmly behind himself, locking it securely.

If the sound Gibbs had heard only a minute ago had been a sob, it had apparently been a solitary thing because Tony wasn't making any noise at all. Tony didn't move but Gibbs knew he was aware of his presence. As if approaching a wounded animal, Gibbs took a step forward, saying in a calm, even manner, "Everything's going to be all right now, Tony…" He wasn't sure what reaction Tony would have but Gibbs did not like seeing the young man's shoulders shaking.

Gibbs immediately forgot his plan to approach Tony cautiously, and moved quickly to Tony's side. He took hold of Tony's upper arms and pulled him upright and into his arms, saying, "God, Tony, it's all right. I'm here now. I'm an idiot…" He ran one hand up and down Tony's silky smooth back, and cradled the back of his head, enveloping the young man within his protective arms. He could feel Tony's whole body shaking; he was panting, his breath warm and moist against Gibbs' neck. Gibbs was also painfully aware of Tony's nudity, and the feeling of the youthful body leaning against him was becoming more and more of a distraction by the second.

Tony didn't say anything, not even a murmur, which was so unlike him that it concerned Gibbs. Turning his head a little, Gibbs kissed Tony's temple and said encouragingly, "I'm right here for you, I promise. It's all right. It's all right, baby. Tell me what's going on. Are you hurt?" He could see Tony's eyes were downcast, the long eyelashes sweeping his cheeks, which were slightly flushed.

Tony's hands pushed against Gibbs' chest, so Gibbs loosened his hold a bit although he didn't let Tony out of his encircling arms. He had a good look at Tony's face, checking for signs of trauma, hoping upon hope that the boy wasn't as scared of him as he'd appeared to be a few minutes ago. The expression he saw on Tony's face was not at all what he expected – there were no tears, no signs of distress, no fear or apprehension.

Instead, Tony was smiling and when he looked into Gibbs' eyes, he shook his head and said ruefully, "Talk about embarrassing…"

***end this chapter***


	35. Fanning the Flames

_"Talk about embarrassing…"_

Surprised that Tony was making light of the situation, Gibbs asked, "What?" There was no way Gibbs had misinterpreted what he'd seen in that hotel bathroom – it had been plain _wrong_ and Tony had to be aware of it.

Tony wouldn't meet Gibbs' eyes when he said, "Well, you've gotta admit it was just a little a bit awkward to be caught with my pants down and my old man about to..." Tony finished his sentence with hand gesture that simulated the insertion of a butt plug. A flush of pink climbed Tony's neck and spread across his cheeks until the tips of his ears were red. He peeked at Gibbs from beneath his eyelashes and must have sensed Gibbs' disapproval, because he said, a little defensively, "It isn't like he was going to hurt me or anything, Jethro."

Gibbs' eyes lit upon the large black butt plug sitting on the countertop near the bathroom sink. The plug was slick and shiny with lube, and in his mind's eye he saw Senior forcibly holding his son down, about to insert that… _that thing_ …into Tony's ass.

Jesus, he'd known that DiNozzo Sr. was twisted but to do _that_? And to his own kid? It was bad enough that for most of his teen years Tony had been forced to perform oral sex on his father's clients, but had it gone further that that? Gibbs wasn't sure that Tony would admit, even to himself, if his domineering father had molested him. Angry as hell, Gibbs wished that he'd pulled out his combat knife and gutted DiNozzo while he'd been at his mercy, lying on the hotel room floor. Next time there would be no hesitation.

As for Tony saying his father wasn't about to hurt him, that was hardly believable considering DiNozzo's history as an emotional and physical abuser; the small bruises visible on Tony's neck from when his father choked him told the story well enough, as did the marks on Tony's ribs and temple. Although Tony had initially said he'd received those injuries when he'd been mugged outside the strip club, those bruises had turned out to be additional evidence that Senior had mistreated his son.

Gibbs accepted that he was not entirely blameless either. The gauze pad he'd taped to Tony's shoulder had been removed, exposing the place where Gibbs had bitten his young lover the night before. Tony may have dismissed the severity of the love bite at the time, but Gibbs felt ashamed when he saw the tooth marks and bruising that marred Tony's smooth skin. More than anything, he hated that he'd added to Tony's pain, even if it was a small hurt compared to everything else the youth had been through.

Gibbs wanted to know what had been going on between Tony and his father in the bathroom before he'd barged in. The last time the father and son had been in close quarters they'd been at each other's throats, so what had changed?

Tony had trouble meeting his eyes and seemed unusually tense. Gibbs feared it was because he'd witnessed Gibbs' burst of  murderous anger when he'd beaten Senior to a pulp only minutes earlier. There was no way of taking his actions back, and Gibbs wasn't sure that anything he said would make a difference. He was no good at explanations and apologies anyway; the words were there in his brain but he just couldn't get them to come out right. At a loss, he rubbed his hands up and down Tony's bare arms and asked, "You okay?"

Tony's gaze was fixed on Gibbs' chest, a frown creating two distinct creases between his brows. Although he didn't look up, Tony nodded and said quietly, "Yeah." He rolled his shoulders and fidgeted, apparently uncomfortable at his bare skin being touched.

Gibbs reluctantly dropped his hands and stepped back. The suite's bathroom was large by hotel room standards but there wasn't a lot of room to maneuver, so Gibbs leaned against the vanity in order to give Tony some space. Unfortunately it gave him a good view of Tony's naked body. Now free of Gibbs' hold, Tony shifted his weight and crossed his arms over his naked chest, which Gibbs couldn't help but notice didn't have any nipple rings adorning it. He tried to keep his gaze on Tony's face, which put his self-restraint to the test. Indicating the butt plug lying next to the sink, Gibbs asked abruptly, "What's that?"

"That? Uh…" Tony's eyes flitted towards the plug and then quickly away and he mumbled something that Gibbs couldn't quite catch.

"Speak up," ordered Gibbs sharply, putting on his regulation gunnery sergeant scowl. He rose and stood close to Tony once again so they were only inches apart, and he caught a whiff of shampoo and a hint of something else. He eased a little closer and inhaled, and discovered that the tantalizingly familiar smell of coffee was emanating from his young lover. The aroma instantly brought back the memory of Tony lying by the pool wearing his coffee-scented suntan lotion, all long, tanned limbs and an enticing smile. Mentally slapping himself, Gibbs returned to the present and raised his eyebrows to indicate he was waiting for a reply.

"That?" Tony rolled his eyes and said, " _That_ is a butt plug, Special Agent Gibbs. Thought you were an investigator."

Gibbs prayed for patience and slapped the back of Tony's head. "Don't be a wise-ass, Tony." He made the mistake of looking down the length of Tony's naked body and froze at the sight of Tony's cock rising from his hairless groin. Hell, it looked as though Tony was getting turned on by their proximity – or maybe it was the head slap that did it. No wonder he'd been so fidgety. Well, that made two of them, because it was getting more difficult with each passing second to ignore the fact that Tony was naked, standing mere inches away and was sporting a burgeoning erection. Adding to the excitement was the risk they were taking with a bunch of federal agents nearby, who would most certainly hear them if they started fooling around, because neither he nor Tony was what you'd call quiet when it came to having sex.

Although he warred with his instincts, in the end Gibbs couldn't help himself; he leaned slightly forward and sniffed Tony's cheek. He smelled like one of those exotic brands of coffee that Gibbs always passed by in favor of the store brand. "Coffee?" Gibbs asked. He pulled back a little, though not so far as to be out of range of the alluring aroma – just enough to watch Tony's expression.

His cheeks coloring a little, Tony touched a finger to a spot behind his ear. "I dabbed some coffee back there. I wanted something to remind me of you." He glanced at Gibbs and then away. "Not sure why I give a shit, considering you pretty much gave up on me." He spoke somewhat nonchalantly but it was obvious that Tony's feelings were still hurt from the way Gibbs had treated him.

"No, Tony, I never gave up on you." Gibbs wanted so badly to take Tony into his arms, but he was sure that his embrace would not be welcomed. "I never will."

Tony continued as if he hadn't heard a word Gibbs had just said, sounding angry and aroused at the same time, "You know, I used to love the smell of coffee, but I hate it now. You ruined it for me, Jethro. Every time I smell it I'm going to think about your tongue licking around the head of my dick. Even now I imagine you…I can actually _feel_ you sucking me until I come in your mouth, then you kiss me so I can taste myself on your lips." Tony licked his fingers and rubbed the crown of his cock, and his shaft twitched and grew within his encircling fingers. "God," he moaned. "I only have to smell coffee and I get so hard." His hand slid up and down his cock, stopping to grip it, almost cruelly, and he began to pant. "How can I love something…and hate it…at the same time?"

Gibbs implored, "Tony, don't," even though Tony wasn't alone in his fantasies. Gibbs imagined his lips wrapping around Tony's cock, taking in the length of his velvety shaft, his tongue running along the vein on its underside, mouth sucking then  tasting the hot streams of come Tony shoots into his eagerly waiting mouth. He raised his eyes from Tony's groin to his face, and willed himself to concentrate but the moment that Tony licked his lips, with his lids half-closed over darkened eyes, Gibbs knew he was lost. He closed his own eyes for a moment and felt the heat rise from his belly, his balls ache with need.

When Gibbs opened them again it was to find Tony looking at him with a slight smile that did not reach his eyes. Tony reached out and fondled Gibbs' balls and gave his cock a squeeze. "I think maybe you want to have a taste of me, Agent Gibbs. Is that right?"

"Aw, hell," Gibbs muttered, stubbornly fighting the inevitable. "Tony," he warned, in a last-ditch effort. It wasn't easy but Gibbs fended off Tony's hands and backed up until he encountered the sink, believing that if he could just keep his distance he could get through this untimely seduction relatively unscathed.

Tony moved with him and insinuated the length of his body against Gibbs'. For such a slim young man he was surprisingly solid, and he used his weight to his advantage. There was nowhere for Gibbs to go unless he left the bathroom altogether but there was no way in hell he leaving until he made sure that Tony understood what he might be facing once Harding and Torres arrived.

Tony's hand caressed Gibbs' cock through his pants, the other hand reached around to fondle his rear. "Nice ass, Marine," Tony said appreciatively.

Gibbs barely prevented a groan from escaping. "Stand down," he ordered as firmly as possible.

"Sorry, but I don't take orders from you any more, Agent Gibbs," said Tony. "Unless my memory is faulty, I seem to remember you said you were done with me."

"Yeah, well, I'm still your handler, Tony. You do exactly what I tell you to do and nothing more, nothing less."

Tony snorted, apparently unimpressed by Gibbs' take-charge attitude. "I'm not one of your recruits, Gibbs. Your director thinks I'm capable of doing this, so why don't you?" He rubbed his groin against Gibbs' trouser-clad thigh, pushing against the hands that tried to hold him at bay.

"Never said you weren't." Being capable didn't mean that Tony had made the right choice to work with the feds on a potentially dangerous assignment. "Morrow had no right to drag you into this, Tony, and I a damned good reason for telling you not to take part in this operation!"

"He didn't drag me into it! I volunteered. It was all my idea." Tony added in a biting tone, "You threatened me, Jethro." He pressed unrelentingly against Gibbs, continuing to stroke and squeeze Gibbs' cock and balls through his pants. "You said you were going to wash your hands of me! And why? Because I want to help get those bastards thrown in prison and right now I'm your best bet and for some reason you can't accept that. Now tell me, 'cause I'm sort of confused here, don't you _want_ the senator to go down for what he's done to all those boys?" He rubbed the heel of his hand along the length of Gibbs' cock then began to pull down the zipper to Gibbs' pants. "Bet you want me to do this."

Gibbs grabbed Tony's wrists and ground out, "Don't. Not while you're like this."

"Like what, Gibbs? Angry, pissed, ready for some action?" Tony struggled against Gibbs' restraining hands, never letting up with his tirade, his eyes glittering with barely contained rage. "Don't you want him – _Sir_ – to get the electric chair for raping and torturing, and _murdering_ those Navy boys? Because I'm telling you that I want to see him fry! And if you're not man enough to do it, to take the risk and do what needs to be done, to stop that monster, then someone, _someone_ fucking well has to step up and do it for you! And if you're concerned that it'll put me in some kind of danger…well, it sure as hell won't be  the first time."

"You've wanted to kill him, right from the start," Gibbs said, his voice almost a whisper, taken aback by the realization even though it made perfect sense. He remembered when they'd sat in his truck in the dark, and Tony had told him what Sir had done to him, and how Tony had wiped the tears off his face and declared that next time he saw Sir, he was going to kill the bastard. Gibbs had never doubted Tony's sincerity, but he had never truly believed that the young man would get a chance at revenge, or that Tony might take it if he had the opportunity. After all, ordinary men often fantasize about getting back at someone, but how many actually follow through with it?

But now, scared by what he saw in Tony's eyes, Gibbs demanded persistently, "What is it you plan to do, Tony? You gonna get close enough to Harding and try to take him out?"

"You think this is all a plan to kill Sir?" Tony's face went pale as he shook his head in denial. "I just want him to stop hurting them, stop killing them! Do you know that when he was raping me I pled with him to stop? I cried like a baby, Jethro, a fucking crybaby, but he just laughed at me and he told me he enjoyed hurting me. He enjoyed it!" Tony dragged his hands out of Gibbs' grasp. He looked at him with wild eyes and entreated, "Don't you see? I just want him to stop."

Seeing the intensity of the pain in Tony's face, Gibbs truly understood that the deep-seated hatred and fear and shame, and all the other strong emotions that Tony had been carrying around with him for the past four years, had been a flickering flame that had only just been fanned into a full-blown bonfire. How he had missed the signs, Gibbs didn't know, though Tony had proven he was good at covering up what was really going on in his head. He had to put a stop to this before Tony did something rash, something that would ruin his whole life – or get him killed.

"I _should_ be finished with you for not listening to me," Gibbs said gruffly. He hugged Tony to his chest and swung them both around, then braced his arms so that it was Tony who was trapped against the sink. He leaned in and said fiercely, "I gave you an ultimatum to knock some sense into you because I don't want you to get hurt. You know what a monster that man is yet you don't have the sense of self-preservation to keep the hell away from him! I don't want you to become one of those boys, Tony. I will _not_ stand by and see you laid out on one of Ducky's slabs."

Tony stared at him with wide eyes, more distressed than scared, but at that moment Gibbs would have been happy if he could scare some sense into Tony. "I don't want, will _not_ watch you die, Tony! I've had enough of death; I've just lost my own family, for God's sake! And now…I couldn't…Christ, I couldn't live with myself if you were hurt because of my failure! I should have been a better investigator and tracked down the bastard who's been killing those boys, weeks ago. But I missed something, didn't ask the right questions…I don't know where I went wrong, but I did," he admitted even though it was painful to do so. "And now this is my chance to take Harding down, and I _will_ bring him down. That I promise, but you are _not_ to be involved in it. Do you understand?"

Tony was staring at him, his lips parted and his eyes full of consternation. Before Gibbs could remark that seeing Tony speechless was a first, Tony wrapped his arms around Gibbs's waist and cried out, "Don't, don't blame yourself, Jethro. I know you'll get him, put the bastard where he belongs. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said those things, said you're not man enough. You are, you really are. Man enough, I mean. And you're a wonderful investigator, the best." Tony hid his face in Gibbs' chest and hugged him so tightly that Gibbs feared he'd end up with a cracked rib or two. "Next time I start going on and on, you need to tell me to shut up, okay?"

Gibbs rubbed his cheek against Tony's soft hair, relieved there'd been a breakthrough and that Tony seemed to be listening to him. "Think you'll listen to me the next time?"

"I'll try to, Jethro. I don't know what comes over me," Tony said with a sigh, his voice slightly muffled in Gibbs' shirtfront. "I get so angry and I try to keep it in, but sometimes it escapes and I can't get it to go back inside so I can lock it down, like Attica in '71. You remember Al Pacino yelling, 'Attica! Attica!' in 'Dog Day Afternoon'?" He raised his face and said with desperation, "Kiss me and I'll shut up, Jethro."

Gibbs kissed Tony possessively on the mouth, and after Tony melted in his arms, Gibbs placed another, gentler kiss on his temple. At that moment he couldn't bear to speak but it didn't seem to matter. He knew he had to help Tony to get out of the terrible place he was in, but had no idea how to go about it, and Gibbs was also afraid of failing him, and what that might mean to Tony's future.

Tony lowered his eyes and asked, so tentatively that Gibbs felt his heart constrict painfully, "Are…are you really finished with me? 'Cause I wouldn't blame you. I'm nothing but trouble."

With a choking laugh, Gibbs slowly shook his head and gently brushed the hair off Tony's forehead. "Yeah, I got that already. But I'll never be done with you."

Tony gave Gibbs a genuine smile and asked hopefully, "Never? Even if I work with Tobias – I mean Agent Fornell – as part of this op, and wear a wire and open the door to let those men in to see my father, and entertain them while they wait for him, even though Dad won't be joining us because there's no way he can explain how it is that Leroy Jethro Gibbs smashed his face in?"

"Don't you ever give up?" Gibbs asked, scowling even though he held Tony close, loving the feeling of the heat, right through his clothes, coming off Tony's naked body.

"No, not if it's important and I know it's the right thing to do," Tony said with conviction. He ran his hand up Gibbs' trousers' leg again, fondled him and rubbed his thumb across the sensitive head of Gibbs' cock. "I'll be careful and you'll be nearby. You will be close, won't you?"

His head going back at the sensation of Tony's hand on his cock, Gibbs gasped, "God…Tony…" He took a couple of deep breaths and focused. "I'll be there. D'you have any idea how dangerous these men are going to be if they get suspicious? There's Torres to deal with, too."

Tony nuzzled Gibbs' neck and started kissing the underside of his jaw, lightly sucking on the skin. "Well yeah, I know. I'm not stupid. Mmm, you taste good. Smell good, too, like that wood you work with. And coffee, too." He said in a small voice, "I lied – I don't really hate the smell of coffee."

Gibbs gripped the back of Tony's neck. "Hey, don't change the subject. Listen to me." As soon as Tony desisted from kissing him and seemed to be paying attention, Gibbs said, "I know you're not stupid, Tony. Gutsy and reckless, more like it, and underestimating the enemy can be a fatal mistake. Harding is sadistic but Torres is just as bad in his own way."

Tony laid his head on Gibbs' chest and let out a sigh of exaggerated patience, his hands slipping under his Gibbs' jacket and up his back to stroke him. "It's not like I haven't met them both before, Jethro. I know who they are, what they're capable of," he said. "Believe me, I know. Remember, I dated Torres' daughter in high school? Can you imagine finding out your date's dad is a mob boss?" He said dismissively, "Mariella was okay but Mr. Torres was like a dog, snapping at everyone and pissing on his territory. When I broke up with her I set her up with the school quarterback as consolation," he said with a smile of accomplishment. "I think she liked him a lot better than me anyhow. I know, that's hard to believe, but it's true." Tony grew quiet for a moment and then said, "And as for Senator Harding…that's why I asked my dad to come in here and help me put the Enforcer on."

Gibbs frowned and asked, "The what?"

Tony stood straight, remaining within the circle of Gibbs' arms. He bit his bottom lip and pointed to something that looked like a leather and metal jock strap that was hanging from a hook on the back of the bathroom door, half hidden underneath a bath towel. "Stupid name, I know, but it's called the Enforcer." With a shrug Tony stepped out of Gibbs' arms and removed the belt from the towel rail and turned back to Gibbs with it dangling from his fingers. He didn't quite meet Gibbs' curious eyes when he explained, in a casual voice, "It's a chastity belt. You've got to get it on really tight or else it's not secure; that's why I asked my father to help me out." Tony said, with a little laugh, "It's not like I could ask Tobias."

Gibbs didn't make any move to reach for the device even though he had a strange desire to handle it. He licked his lips, which suddenly felt very dry. "You've, uh, worn this before?"

"Yeah. I know it seems sorta extreme but it keeps me safe. It was Dad's idea, back when he first started taking me to meetings and stuff." Tony started to undo the buckles on the belt while Gibbs watched him.

"Wait a minute, since when do you call Fornell by his first name?"

"Since on the way over here in the limo he called me Junior one too many times, and I found out it annoyed him if I called him Tobias." Tony looked up with a grin. "Can you undo this buckle, Jethro?"

Shaking his head and wondering why he'd even asked about Fornell, Gibbs gingerly accepted the contraption from Tony. It consisted of a leather belt that buckled around the waist, with another, thinner strap that went between the legs. There was a metal-reinforced plastic cup whose function appeared to be to imprison the wearer's genitals, and a bracket inside the rear strap into which the base of the butt plug would snap. The whole thing, which was surprisingly lightweight, could be locked tight at the front of the belt with a small padlock that was hooked through a D-ring.

Handling it made Gibbs' heart race, and he wasn't sure if it was because he hated the thought of Senior touching Tony when he secured the damned thing around his son's body, or because this time Gibbs was going to be the one buckling Tony into the chastity belt. While he worked at a stubborn buckle, Gibbs cleared his throat and asked, "Your father made you wear this?"

"Sure, whenever he took me on a business trip, or when we met a client. It's to stop anyone from getting…you know…a free fuck. That's why Dad was doing the thing with the butt plug when you walked in on us," Tony explained, as if it was an everyday occurrence for a man to rig his son up with a chastity device.

Gibbs eyed the belt in his hands, now undone and ready for Tony to wear. "Does it…hurt?"

With a soft smile that showed that he loved being the object of Gibbs' concern, Tony said, "No, not really. I mean, it's uncomfortable, especially if I get a hard-on when I'm wearing it. That can be really frustrating, though that's sort of the point for most guys who wear this kind of device, isn't it? Giving up the control of your pleasure to your partner – I can understand the appeal. So, are you gonna help me, or what?"

Gibbs was torn, wanting to see Tony wearing the chastity belt but knowing that if he helped him to strap it on, he was giving tacit approval to Tony being part of the op. "You sure about this?"

"I'll be a good boy," Tony said, watching Gibbs expectantly. "I won't draw any attention to myself. Hey, they probably won't even give me a second glance."

Somehow Gibbs doubted that. He'd be there to watch over Tony, he reasoned, even if he couldn't approve of his involvement. If Torres and Harding turned up, once they realized that DiNozzo Sr. wasn't going to join them, they'd be out of there. Hopefully while they were waiting they'd say something that could be used to obtain warrants, but Gibbs didn't have high hopes for that. Men like that never spoke openly except in their own house, and often not even then. Before Gibbs knew what he was saying, the words were out: "Fine. Tell me what to do."

Gibbs started to slip the belt around Tony's waist but Tony said, "Wait. Uh, you've got to take care of me first, Jethro." When it was apparent that Gibbs didn't get his meaning, Tony pointed to a tube inside the cup. "I can't fit my dick in there while I've got a boner."

Gibbs looked at Tony's semi-erect cock and then at the too-small tube and started to sweat. "No shit."

***end chapter 35***


	36. The Recruit

Tony's eyes lit up with amusement. Placing the chastity belt to one side, he stroked his cock, which reacted quickly to his touch. "It's better to get a complete release now and then I won't be as likely to get an erection when it's on," he said, apparently speaking from experience. "Are you gonna do the honors?" Tony sidled close to Gibbs to kiss him briefly on the lips, and said boldly, "You owe me, you know. I'm still sorta mad at you for threatening to dump me if I didn't do exactly what you wanted."

"I owe you, huh?" Gibbs kissed Tony, gentle but commanding. His tongue slid leisurely across Tony's lips, asking to be forgiven. He raised his knee between Tony's naked thighs, putting pressure on his balls, and if Tony's responsive moan and acquiescent body were anything to go by, Gibbs figured he'd been let off the hook – at least for now. Lowering his knee, Gibbs asked mockingly, "And just how're you gonna make me pay?"

"Oh, I'll find a way," Tony promised. He wrapped his arms around Gibbs shoulders, and slid his fingers through Gibbs' hair to tug at the short strands. "You can start by kissing me some more," he said as he pulled Gibbs in for another kiss, parting his lips in invitation.

Their tongues tangled in a messy, slippery exchange and Gibbs groaned at the taste of Tony's mouth. He rocked his hips, the barrier of his trousers adding to the friction between their cocks. Tony was making little sounds that were halfway between moans and pleas, which made Gibbs want to give in to the urge to lower him to the floor to fuck him hard and fast. He reminded himself that the objective was to get Tony off, not to get mutual satisfaction, but it wasn't easy to remember. Gibbs' fingers found their way into the crevice between Tony's ass cheeks to tease the sensitive area around his entrance while his other hand grasped Tony's cock and squeezed it, just once. The ragged intake of breath and the shuddering moan that came from deep in Tony's throat confirmed what Gibbs already knew, that his boy needed a firm hand, and that it was up to him to lead the way.

While they kissed Gibbs gave Tony's cock a series of steady strokes in tempo to the plunges of his tongue and soon Tony's hips were moving in time to them, thrusting into Gibbs' hand. Gibbs reluctantly withdrew from the kiss, and asked in a rough voice, "How'd you want this? You want me to fuck you over the sink? Or a hand job?" He hated being rushed but they were getting down to the wire and they were sure to get interrupted any minute.

Tony's eyelids closed halfway and he murmured, "Just…just use your hand, Jethro. Stroke me, slow at first, like you've been doing, with a twist, then faster. Won't take much to send me…"

Gibbs didn't need any further instructions. Once again he wrapped his fingers around Tony's cock and slowly slid his hand up and down the velvety, hot shaft that was now leaking, and felt it grow harder within his fist. He made a twisting motion on the up-stroke and he flicked his thumb across the cock-head before sliding his hand down its length again, picking up speed and changing the pressure with every successive stroke.

Tony was nuzzling under Gibbs' jaw while his hands slid down the small of Gibbs' back and delved under the waistband of his pants. Prevented from getting very far by Gibbs' belt, Tony said with urgency, "Want…want to touch you."

Gibbs gave Tony's cock one last caress before he released it and held his hands away from his body. "Undress me," he ordered.

With shaky hands, Tony undid Gibbs' belt and trousers and pushed them, and his boxers, down to where they bunched around Gibbs' ankles, his boots preventing their easy removal.

There was a heavy thunk when Gibbs' holstered gun hit the tiled floor, reminding him that he was a federal agent in the middle of a case. Yet here he was, fooling around in a hotel bathroom. Well, Tony was an instrumental part of the op, and he was preparing him to meet the suspects, Gibbs reasoned, knowing he was making feeble excuses for his actions.

Gibbs let Tony drag his polo shirt over his head and, turned on by Tony's enthusiasm, almost forgot where they were and what the objective was.

Tony tossed the shirt aside, and his mouth immediately latched onto one of Gibbs' nipples. He sucked and nibbled on it and then gave the other rosy nipple the same treatment, the whole time making mewling noises as if he couldn't get enough of him. Tony came up for air only long enough to say breathlessly, "Lube…by sink," and went right back to suckling on Gibbs' nipples, the scraping of his teeth across the sensitive nubs making them harden with pleasure.

One of Tony's hands slipped between Gibbs' legs and cupped his balls, causing Gibbs' toes to curl inside his tactical boots. The boots' soles squeaked slightly on the tiled bathroom floor when he moved his legs as far apart as his lowered pants would allow.

Tony took the hint and settled between Gibbs' legs, a hand anchored on each thigh for stability while he noisily lapped at Gibbs' balls with his hot tongue. He mouthed and sucked at Gibbs' tight balls while he gently stroked the erect cock that rose from Gibbs' dark-haired groin.

Gibbs laid his hands on Tony's head and watched his young lover pleasuring him through his half-closed eyes. The sight of Tony kneeling there, working his magic with his lips and tongue, brought on a sudden and potent rush of love and possessiveness. Gibbs' belly clenched, and his cock ached and hardened when Tony took one of his balls in his mouth and hummed. "God! Tony, enough." Gibbs tugged on Tony's hair and pulled him off, grunting, "Save it – later." At this rate he'd be creaming the walls before he even got a chance to take care of his lover. "Up," he said.

Tony placed small wet kisses on Gibbs' cock, belly, and chest as he rose to his full height. Standing, he slung his arms around Gibbs' waist and licked his lips in anticipation. "Later sounds good, but what about now?"

"Now I need to take care of you." Gibbs had to reach around Tony, who was clinging to him like a limpet and grinding their groins together in a slow, sultry dance, in order to get hold of the tube of lube that was sitting next to the sink. He squeezed some of the cream onto his palm and sniffed it, relieved that the scent was mildly citrus. "Don't want to walk out of here smellin' like a sissy," he said with a chuckle.

He pushed Tony away, just enough so he could reach between their bodies and take both of their cocks in his hand. With a couple of broad sweeps of his palm, Gibbs slicked both of their shafts with the lube and compressed them in his fist. The sensual feeling of mingling textures, the moisture and the heat of their flesh pulsing and pressing together left him fighting for breath. Gibbs pumped their married cocks a few times and couldn't help moaning. At his touch, Tony trembled and his hands clutched at Gibbs' back, seeking something solid to hang onto. Gibbs placed a tender kiss on Tony's lips, and shushed him until the frantic hands stilled. "Shhh. Next time we'll take it slow. Real slow."

The friction of their slippery, heated skin, the beat of their pulses throbbing in a mismatched tempo, made Gibbs' cock stiffen painfully, and he knew he wouldn't last long. It was obvious from the breathy pleas spilling from Tony's lips, and his shivers of pleasure, that neither would he.

Tony rested his forehead on Gibbs' chest, the silky strands of his hair caressing Gibbs' chin. Tony was panting unevenly, his hips jerking. His cock, captured within strong, callused fingers, slid back and forth alongside Gibbs', while he clung onto the older man as if he was his only lifeline.

With throaty murmurs of approval, Gibbs slid his free hand between Tony's legs and tugged gently at his balls. Tony buried his face in Gibbs' neck so when he cried out in great, sobbing breaths, "I want, I want…," his words reached no further than Gibbs' ears. Tony came first, giving one last thrust into Gibbs' fist with his body arching and then quivering with release. Tony's fingers dug into Gibbs' back during the final throes of his orgasm and Gibbs was sure he'd have long bloody marks to show for it.

Gibbs worked their cocks together, his thumb rubbing across their sensitive cock-heads until he thought he couldn't bear the sensation for a second more; he came with a shudder, releasing his hot come all over Tony's belly. Right down to his core, Gibbs hated that he had to stifle his instinctive cry of release, when what he wanted most of all was to shout from the damned rooftops that Tony was his and his alone.

Even before they had recovered, Gibbs was cleaning them off; time was short. He dressed quickly, clipping his sidearm to his belt where it belonged. Luckily, his clothing hadn't been soiled because it would be pretty damned embarrassing to have to explain dried come on his pants. Not to mention he'd surely get fired for fucking around on the job.

It brought a sense of satisfaction to Gibbs that Tony had a well-fucked look about him. He looked as though he needed a good long sleep, but by the time Gibbs had finished drying him off with efficient, vigorous strokes of a big fluffy towel, Tony had recovered and was alert once again.

After he'd taken a leak, Tony handed the chastity belt to Gibbs with a bashful smile. "Better get the show on the road."

Gibbs took the belt and buckled it around Tony's slim waist; the strap that went between his legs was attached at the back and left hanging. He hesitated and looked over at the butt plug, but Tony reached for it, smeared it generously with lube and resolutely handed it to Gibbs.

Still, Gibbs hesitated. "Tony, is this absolutely necessary?"

In reply, Tony leaned over the vanity and braced himself with a hand on either side of the sink. He gave Gibbs a confident smile over his shoulder. "It's okay, Jethro. Just do it."

"It's…sorta big," said Gibbs.

"I'm used to it. I'll be fine if you go slow and twist it a little," Tony said with a nod.

Gibbs took a deep breath, then held the dangling strap out of the way. He spread Tony's ass cheeks with one hand while he gently eased the tip of the large butt plug into his hole. When it had been inserted almost up to the widest part of the plug, Tony tensed and released a small grunt. Gibbs immediately halted. "Tony, you don't have to do this–."

Tony's head hung low and his eyes were scrunched closed, much as they'd been when Gibbs had interrupted Senior earlier, when he'd been about to insert the plug into his son's ass. "I'm fine," Tony said in a taut voice. "You need to do it. I don't want anyone getting any free fucks, remember?"

Gibbs retracted the plug a little then slowly slid it in, watching carefully as the rest of its length disappeared into Tony's opening. Then it was in, with only the flanged end exposed. Tony gingerly straightened and inhaled a deep breath, then directed Gibbs to slip the end of the butt plug into the slot that would hold it securely in place.

Once that was done, Tony pulled the slim strap between his legs, took hold of his flaccid dick and slipped it into the L-shaped tube located in the protective cup. It was curved, forcing his cock between his legs, and it was restrictive enough to prevent an erection from fully forming. Tony wiggled a bit as he adjusted himself. He smiled ruefully at Gibbs and explained, "Not always easy to get my balls in the holder thingy."

Gibbs asked, "Can you take a piss wearin' it?"

"Yeah. There's a rubber tube that goes from the tip of my dick to an exit hole. I have to sit on a toilet, or squat. Only had the urge a couple of times before and it felt weird but it worked," Tony admitted. "Okay, let's get this buckled up, locked and loaded," he said with a broad grin. Seeing the look on Gibbs face, which was a reflection of the agent's inner turmoil, Tony reached out to clasp Gibbs' neck and he pulled him in for a kiss. "Think of it as body armor and I'm a soldier," Tony suggested. "We can play gunnery sergeant and raw recruit later on," he enticed, as he waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "You can pick the lock and free me from the clutches of the enemy."

With a crooked smile, Gibbs said, "You'd better be prepared. I'll have you naked and cleaning the latrine in no time at all, recruit."

Although Gibbs thought he'd managed to hide his emotions, his worry must have shown because Tony leaned against him, cupped his cheek and kissed him on the corner of his mouth. Tony whispered against Gibbs' lips, "I love you, Marine."

Gibbs nodded and let his eyes express to Tony that his feelings were mutual. Why was it that at important moments such as this, words failed him, Gibbs wondered? As far as he was concerned, Tony was more than a little foolish, both for wanting to be part of this op and for loving an old ex-Marine like him. Gibbs took a deep breath and got back to business; he tugged and tightened the straps, and soon had Tony buckled securely into the belt. After he fastened the padlock Gibbs held up the small key. "You want me to hold onto this?"

Tony nodded and said with sincerity, "You're the only one I trust, Jethro."

That simple sentence made Gibbs' heart swell and it was his turn to lean into Tony and offer him a kiss of affirmation and love.

They parted and Tony said lightly, "Just don't lose that key because it'll be a pain in the ass to find the right tools to cut me out of this."

Gibbs had only just said that he'd better get Tony some clothes when there was a tap on the bathroom door and Fornell's voice could be heard calling Gibbs' name. Gibbs unlocked the door and stepped out to talk to the FBI agent; he closed the door behind him, careful to shield Tony from Fornell's prying eyes.

Fornell gave Gibbs a quick once-over then nodded with a knowing smile. "And there I was, Gibbs, taking you for a fighter and not a lover. We were taking bets," he said, hooking his thumb in the direction of the living room, "on whether you'd beat up on the kid or play nice with him." Gibbs sent Fornell a sour look and got a broad grin in return. The FBI agent held up a pair of dress pants. "Got your boy's trousers, with the transmitter embedded in the waistband. Better get him dressed because," Fornell glanced at his watch, "I want time to go over everything once more."

Gibbs took Tony's pants from Fornell and said curtly, "Be out in a few minutes." Fornell opened his mouth to protest but Gibbs went into the bathroom and closed the door in Fornell's face. Fornell would just have to wait.

Tony drew his pants over the chastity belt before emerging from the bathroom with Gibbs following.

Gibbs frowned at Tony's bare chest. "You got something to wear?"

Tony rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I keep some clothes here for whenever we come to DC. I've only been here a couple of times so far. Never saw more than the inside of a couple of hotels and the Arabic Emirate embassy. No booze at that party though." He pulled an expensive-looking white dress shirt from the closet, put it on and tucked it in, leaving the top three buttons undone to expose his tanned, smooth chest. By the time Tony had slipped on a pair of black loafers and fastened a heavy gold watch around his wrist, he looked ready for just about anything.

He'd put something on his hair, Gibbs noticed, that smoothed it off his face and made him appear a little more mature than his eighteen years of age. Looking Tony up and down, Gibbs took in the young man's handsome face, his tall, lithe body dressed in simple but fine clothing. He almost felt jealous that Tony was dressing up for someone else, even if it was stage dressing for an op. "You're not wearing…?" Gibbs made a motion to indicate he was asking about Tony's nipple rings. He couldn't say the words aloud, sure that Fornell would have already activated the transmitting wire in Tony's waistband.

With a shake of his head Tony said, almost shyly, "I only wear them for you, Jethro."

Gibbs felt a possessive streak heat up his whole body. "Good," he replied in a low voice. He stepped up to Tony and ran a hand experimentally over Tony's groin. Although Gibbs could feel the hard shell of the chastity belt's cup beneath Tony's pants, there was no indication he was wearing it to the casual observer.

"Do I pass the test?" asked Tony, a knowing gleam in his green eyes.

Without replying, Gibbs unclipped his gun and badge then unbuckled his belt and removed it. "I want you to wear this," he said forcefully.

"Okay, but what about the wire in my waistband?"

"My belt won't interfere with it," Gibbs assured him. "I won't do it up too tight."

While Gibbs slid his belt through Tony's pants' belt loops, Tony said, amused, "A belt that's visible wasn't part of my fashion statement."

"It should be." Gibbs pulled a small, sharp knife from its secret place behind the belt buckle to demonstrate how handy it was. Tony's eyes widened and he was about to say something when Gibbs raised a single finger to his lips to signal that Tony should watch what he said. Knowing Fornell, he would have tuned into the wire's frequency as soon as he'd left the bedroom, and he or his agents would be listening in right at that moment. Tony nodded to show that he understood.

Gibbs buckled up the belt for Tony then whispered in his ear, "Never go anywhere without a knife. Rule number nine." Tony's pleased smile and nod of thanks was Gibbs' reward. Tony found a spare belt in his closet for Gibbs and slid it through Gibbs' pants' loops and buckled it up, just as Gibbs had done for him.

There was another knock at the door and Mike Franks entered, looking concerned. He motioned for Gibbs to join him and together they stepped out into the hallway. "Bad news, Gunny," Franks said in a muted voice. "When I called Director Morrow I had to report to him about the little accident that befell Senior DiNozzo – how the old man, uh, fell down and hurt himself." He paused and Gibbs knew that whatever Franks was about to tell him, it was not going to be good. Franks said, "SecNav was with the director. We had a little discussion 'bout what was at stake here but he said he wants you to step away from this operation."

"No! Damn it, Mike, I can't leave now. Not with Tony–" Gibbs looked back into the bedroom and saw Tony was watching him intently so he lowered his voice. "I am _not_ leaving him to the wolves."

Franks slung his arm around Gibbs' shoulder. "Look, Gunny, Senior is across the hall looking as smug as he can be, spewing threats about how he's gonna make sure there's an investigation into you beating on him, and how he has friends in high places and all that shit. You can bet your badge that he's gonna press charges against you, and that he's not gonna hold back."

"He won't, Mike. DiNozzo knows we've got enough on him to send him up the river, starting with that freighter full of heavy weapons ending up in the wrong hands." There was always the chance that DiNozzo Sr. would use Gibbs' relationship with Tony against him, but Gibbs had plenty of dirt on Tony's father to counter with. DiNozzo had made it clear from the start that Tony was his to do what he wanted with – Tony was his son, after all. "Let the pompous asshole say whatever the hell he wants, 'cause nothing's gonna to get between me and Tony," Gibbs snarled.

"I know, Gunny, but he's a vindictive son-of-a-bitch. You broke his nose, gave him a hell of a shiner and his jaw just might be busted, too. Not to mention he's holding onto his ribs like their mighty sore. Ducky's over there with him right now." Franks said with an evil chuckle, "Seems the doc just happened to forget to bring along any pain killers." He looked past Gibbs' shoulder and nodded in Tony's direction. "DiNozzo Sr. doesn't like it that his boy's got a new master. I think he wants his kid back."

Gibbs said fiercely, "Tony'll never go near him again, you hear me?"

"You don't have to sell me on it, Gunny. Any fool can see the man's bad through and through."

Gibbs took a deep breath then asked, "SecNav tell you to take my gun and badge, Boss?" He wasn't going to leave Tony in anyone else's hands, even if it meant going against orders.

***end chapter 36***


	37. The Winning Hand

"You lookin' to get fired? 'Cause you're riding real close to the edge right now, Probie. If we don't get that warrant and find the latest victim, we might as well all kiss our jobs goodbye." Franks motioned for Gibbs to walk with him into the hotel's corridor where there were no listening devices.

The last thing Gibbs wanted was to be removed from the case but no matter what went down he'd protect Tony at all costs. "I don't care whether I'm wearing a badge or not, Mike. I am not leaving Tony's side until this is all over and done with."

Tony followed the two agents to the door, anxiously listening in on their conversation. Gibbs held up his hand to indicate that Tony should stay inside the hotel room. "I'm not going far," Gibbs assured the young man and then stepped into the corridor, closing the door behind him.

Once they were a little way down the hallway, Franks said in a terse voice, "Nobody's asking for your gun or your badge, Probie. The director and SecNav agree that you're too valuable an agent to take off this case. 'Sides, you're the only one who can make coffee the way I like it, black as tar and bitter as hell."

Gibbs released a sigh of relief and nodded his thanks to Mike Franks. He recognized that his boss, for whom he had a great deal of respect, had spoken up for him with the brass.

Although he had only been with NCIS for a short time, Gibbs had quickly graduated from being a probie who lugged the evidence-collecting cases to crime scenes, to Special Agent Mike Franks' second-in-command. It was a coveted position on the best investigative team in the agency, and one that Gibbs was proud to hold. Like his mentor, Gibbs sometimes bucked authority and did things his own way, if that's what it took to put the bad guys behind bars. Because Franks' team had a reputation for getting the job done, the director of NCIS allowed them some leeway, but all the same, if Gibbs broke protocol, Morrow would have to discipline him. Gibbs would accept any punishment that was meted out, but his first priority was taking care of Tony – and nothing could sway him on that matter.

"You're already in the doghouse for tryin' to wring Fornell's neck," warned Franks as he eyed Gibbs. "Now we have Senior DiNozzo demanding a lawyer 'cause you roughed him up. This isn't like you, Gunny, using your fists so freely."

Franks waited a moment to see what Gibbs' explanation might be, but Gibbs couldn’t even start to explain how his instinct to protect Tony overtook his common sense.

When he saw that he wasn't about to get an answer, Franks grunted and said, "I don't want to see any more strikes against you. Need you on my team, not wasting your time with internal affairs."

Gibbs smirked in response. "Hey, Fornell doesn't hold any grudge." Besides, the director wouldn't put a warning in his personnel jacket unless Fornell lodged a formal complaint, and Gibbs had a pretty strong hunch that wasn't about to happen. Gibbs raised his shoulders nonchalantly. "He's okay – for an FBI agent."

Franks shook his head ruefully and said, "Looks like you two are cut from the same cloth, Gunny." Serious once again, Franks said, "Orders from the top say we have to tread lightly in this investigation. Apparently SecNav is reluctant to give any direct orders that'll come between him and his poker buddy, Senator Harding. Just the same, SecNav has said, on the record, that we should take whatever steps are necessary to get this investigation wrapped up. He won't look the other way if we prove the senator is dirty but we gotta keep any fallout real quiet, comprende?"

Gibbs muttered, "Politics. I just want to get the bastard, and to get our missing petty officer back in one piece."

Franks agreed and said, "You just make sure the kid's primed and ready when the bad guys come knockin' at the door. Tell him to play it cool, let them do the talking. The minute Senator Harding gives us just cause we relay the intel to Morrow and he calls the judge for the warrants. I aim for us to be at the senator's home, and knockin' down the his door the second those orders come through, while he's sittin' here on his ass, waitin' for DiNozzo to turn up." He looked past Gibbs to the closed door of DiNozzo's suite. "You sure the kid's gonna be able to do this?"

Gibbs responded, "He's as ready as he'll ever be." Even though he assured Franks that Tony would hold up his end, Gibbs wasn't certain how Tony would react when he finally faced Harding, for whom he'd harbored a deep-seated hatred for the past four years. Gibbs didn't doubt for one second that Tony had been sincere when he had sworn that he wasn't hell-bent on revenge, and that all he wanted was to stop Sir from hurting anyone else. Unfortunately that didn't mean that Tony would be able to handle the emotional impact of meeting the man who'd raped him, and who was now the prime suspect in a series of brutal murders.

Gibbs reminded himself that Tony was smart and resilient, and that he was used to putting on an impenetrable mask when he needed to. Even so, it was one thing to put on a brave front when faced with someone you knew, as had been the case when Gibbs had questioned Tony in interrogation, and a whole other affair to go one-on-one with a murdering rapist. With a bad feeling settling in the pit of his stomach, Gibbs racked his brains to find any way he could get Tony out of the op without messing it up. He asked his boss, "You think that Harding and Torres are going to show up?"

Rubbing his chin, Franks said, "When you've lived on the wrong side of the law for as long as they have, you develop a sixth sense. They didn't get where they are today by trusting anyone, but I'll bet neither of those hombres will miss an opportunity to make a deal. DiNozzo's cut from the same cloth. And Torres is dangling a pretty big carrot in front of the senator's nose, offering him millions in support for his candidacy – all in squeaky-clean donations. I'd bet each one of them wants to see what the other two have to bring to the table, so yeah, my gut says they'll turn up." Franks squinted at his second and asked, "Why? You got a gut feeling of your own, Probie?"

"My gut's churning, Boss, but it could just be 'cause I'm hungry. Or I'm getting an ulcer from worryin' too much," Gibbs said with a crooked smile.

Franks chuckled and said, "You sound like Pacci. Don't worry – the team is gonna keep a close eye on Tony. We'll see he doesn't get his ass kicked. And as far as his dad goes… by the time I'm finished with DiNozzo Sr., he won't be causing you or the kid any more trouble. You have my word on that, Gibbs." He slapped Gibbs on the shoulder and said, "You take care of Tony. I'm gonna go and make sure everyone's in place."

***

Tony looked at the turkey on rye Gibbs had made for him and shook his head. "Not hungry," he said.

Gibbs sat opposite Tony at the small kitchen table, with a fresh, hot cup of coffee in his hand. He snagged one of the halves of Tony's sandwich from his plate and took a bite. After swallowing, Gibbs said, "That fancy French mustard's pretty good. Go ahead and eat." He made it sound like an order, knowing from what he'd seen over the past couple of days that Tony needed refueling at regular intervals. Luckily the fridge was well stocked with drinks and deli food, as well as champagne and caviar. Tony had said that his father asked that the management fill the fridge with food even though Senior always ate out. Gibbs wasn't sure if it was a sign of Senior's excess or if he was making sure there was food for his son. Somehow he doubted it was the latter.

Ever since Gibbs had returned from his little talk with Mike Franks, Tony had been eying him surreptitiously. He hadn't asked Gibbs anything but it was obvious he had some questions on his mind. Tony shifted in his chair and winced a little. Gibbs thought it must be damned uncomfortable to sit on a butt plug, and he couldn't help but picture the long rubber plug embedded in Tony's tight hole, rubbing across his hot, sensitive flesh every time he moved.

Reading his mind, Tony half-closed his eyes and gave Gibbs a sultry smile. "Every time I move it hits this certain spot…mmm. And my dick is trying to get hard but it's so tight in there that it can't get erect. And my balls are being squeezed; feels like when your hand cups them, Jethro…"

"Tony!" Gibbs breathed out noisily and muttered, "Just eat your damned sandwich. When this is all over, you and I are gonna have a serious talk about acceptable behavior in public."

Tony looked at Gibbs apprehensively but he obeyed and picked up the remaining half of his sandwich. Instead of taking a bite he asked, "Can I say something?" Gibbs glowered at Tony from under his brows and released a sigh. Apparently Tony took that to mean 'yes' because he said, "I'd prefer it if it was your hand squeezing my balls instead of–."

Gibbs rose from his chair, leaned over the table and slapped the side of Tony's head.

Tony froze for a couple of seconds then said, "Okay, eating now."

***

While they ate, Gibbs briefed Tony as to what might go down when Harding and Torres arrived. Tony listened intently and nodded to indicate he understood. Gibbs finished up with a stern warning. "If there's even a hint that something's not right, you head for the door. Don't say anything. No excuses, no 'gotta take a leak.' Just go."

Tony swallowed the rest of his sandwich and said, while licking his fingers, "Like Gregory Peck when he was Johnny Ringo. 'Head for the door. Keep movin' and don't do anything sudden with your hands.'"

Gibbs dropped his head so Tony wouldn't see his sudden smile, but he couldn't fool the young man. Tony was grinning at him so Gibbs said casually, "'The Gunfighter,' wasn't it? John Wayne shoulda got the part, not Peck."

"Wow, Leroy Jethro Gibbs scores a point," Tony said, his eyes dancing with amusement. "It was written for Wayne but he had some kind of dust-up with the writer, so Peck got the role."

"Wait a minute, I only get one measly point? Thought I'd scored a whole hell of a lot more than that with you so far, Tony."

"Oh yeah, you've been racking up a lot of points. Guess you'll have to wait to collect your prize though." Tony stood, bent at the waist, and leaned over the table to lick Gibbs' lips then murmured into his mouth, "Mmm, French mustard."

The feeling of Tony's tongue sliding across his lips heated up Gibbs' whole body. Damn, he couldn’t take much more of this; he wanted, badly, for this case to be over so he could spend some uninterrupted time with Tony.

The second they heard someone coming, Tony sat down again and leaned back in his chair. He smiled innocently when Fornell entered and Gibbs concentrated on his coffee, which was getting cold.

His eyes darting from Gibbs to Tony, and back again, Fornell shook his head then sauntered over to the refrigerator. He pulled out a carton and poured orange juice into a couple of glasses. He raised an empty glass and asked, "Gibbs?"

Gibbs indicated the cup of coffee in front of him and grunted.

"Ready to do this, kid?" asked Fornell. He put one glass in front of Tony and leaned against the counter to sip at his own drink.

"I guess," Tony replied. He drank some of the juice and after a minute said in an offhand manner, "I want to see my dad." At Gibbs' scowl, Tony protested, "He's still my father, Gibbs."

Gibbs had a hard time keeping his irritation over Senior's unremitting hold on his son from showing. "You need to stay here and keep your focus," he said brusquely. Tony sent Gibbs a silent plea with his eyes so Gibbs snorted and said, against his better judgment, "Hey, I'm not DiNozzo's keeper. Fornell's got the last word on who sees your old man."

Tony turned to Fornell and entreated, "It might be the last time I see my dad…for a while."

Gibbs almost rolled his eyes at Tony's blatant manipulation of the FBI agent, but in reality Tony was right. This could be his last chance to see dear old Dad for some time. Once the op was over, DiNozzo Sr. would be flown back to New York where he'd spend time at Federal Plaza spilling everything to the feds – or at least that's what they expected him to do. Gibbs was pretty sure that DiNozzo wasn't about to give anything away for free even if the FBI agents were persistent.

The FBI would not stop questioning DiNozzo until they had every detail of the insider information that Senator Harding had been feeding him over the years; DiNozzo had, in turn, been selling trade and state secrets to buyers overseas, with his old friend Torres providing mob backing as needed. Once Torres found out that DiNozzo was ratting on his colleagues, the FBI would have a hell of a time providing protection to DiNozzo from being taken out by the mob. No wonder DiNozzo had been planning on fleeing the country.

Gibbs asked sarcastically, "You got a nice cell waiting for him upstate, Fornell, or are you gonna relocate him to Booniesville, Idaho with a new name?" If the feds seized DiNozzo's assets he'd be forced to comply, but Gibbs was sure that Tony's father had funds stashed in offshore banks, just waiting for him.

"We've just started talking to him, Gibbs. Let's not rush things," Fornell said in a placating manner. After a pause, the FBI agent gave Tony a nod of agreement. "All right, you can see him. Your dad's in the command center across the hall; I'll take you to him. Dr. Mallard should be wrapping things up by now."

Gibbs didn't counter Fornell's choice to allow Tony access to his father even though he hated the thought of DiNozzo Sr. getting within a mile of his son. He didn't regret beating up Senior, not for one second, even though he regretted revealing his violent side in front of Tony. Gibbs couldn't fathom how it was that Tony seemed to still care for his bastard of a father after everything the man had done to him. DiNozzo had treated Tony like a commodity, had abused and used him as a tool to further his business deals. And from what Gibbs had observed, DiNozzo Sr. didn't have one iota of affection for his own son. He never called Tony by his given name either, and Gibbs figured that was a way of objectifying him. How it was that Tony had turned out to be such a good-natured, amusing and affectionate young man was a puzzle.

Tony was avidly watching Gibbs, awaiting his approval. Eventually Gibbs gave a small, begrudging nod, even though it pained him to do so. Tony seemed to be greatly relieved, and he said a quiet thanks to Gibbs, who responded with a scornful sound. "I need to have a word with Senior first," Gibbs said as he rose from his chair.

"Hey, you keep your hands off him, Gibbs," said Fornell, alarmed. "I need DiNozzo in one piece; we're not finished with him yet."

"Tell you what, you get to hold onto Tony as collateral and I'll do my best not to hurt DiNozzo. Deal?"

"Now why do I think you'll have trouble keeping your end of the bargain, Gibbs?"

"'Cause you know me so well?" Gibbs retorted lightly. He ruffled Tony's hair and looked down into his green eyes, seeing worry revealed in their depths. Gibbs wasn't sure if the concern was for him or perhaps for his father. "You're gonna be holding the winning hand, Fornell. I'll be back for Tony, don't you worry." Those words were for Tony's benefit, to assure him he'd never leave him behind. "Semper fi," Gibbs said softly, and was rewarded by the look in Tony's eyes that told him that he understood.

Tony smoothed down his hair where Gibbs had messed it up, and replied, "Semper fi."

Gibbs turned to leave the kitchen but before he got far Tony rose from the table and was by his side.

"Wait, Jethro." After casting a quick glance back at Fornell, who was fixing himself a snack and appeared to be paying no attention to them, Tony said worriedly to Gibbs, "Director Morrow isn't going to fire you, is he?"

"No, Tony," Gibbs assured him. "It won't come down to that." Gibbs figured Tony was under the impression that his job was in jeopardy, having only heard the beginning of Gibbs' conversation out in the hallway with Mike Franks.

Tony searched Gibbs' face but didn't seem convinced. "I heard what Agent Franks said about your bosses, that they want you to step away from the operation. Look, I don't want you to get in trouble because of me. I know your job means everything to you and you can't lose it, Jethro…not because of me, and not because of my father. Neither of is worth your job and –"

"Stop, Tony," Gibbs said sharply. How could he tell the kid that it was he who was worth everything to him? "I'm fine."

Tony took hold of Gibbs' right hand. "No you're not. Look at your knuckles," Tony said, looking at the bruises and abrasions on his right hand. "You should put ice on them. And get Dr. Mallard to look at them."

Gibbs had barely noticed the damage to his hands after he'd beaten DiNozzo to the floor, and even now they didn't hurt much. "Got worse pain from arthritis in my knees," he said with a smile intended to deflect, flexing his fingers.

For once, Tony didn't return Gibbs' smile, nor did he release Gibbs' hand. "You only went after my dad because you thought he was hurting me, when we were in the bathroom," Tony said. "I'm going to go to Director Morrow and tell him the truth, about how you've been taking care of me. I mean, who else would have driven all the way over to South Brewer on a Friday night to rescue me from the cops? And you took me into your home and…" Gibbs shook his head, and Tony sighed. "Guess that's not such a good idea, huh?"

Gibbs gently clasped his free hand to the side of Tony's neck, and rubbed his thumb along his jaw, touched by the young man's concern. "Morrow knows that your father has a history of hurting you, Tony, so nobody's going to come down on me for protecting you. I'll be fine. No need to throw yourself under the bus, Tony. Look, I need you to stay here for a few minutes, then Agent Fornell can bring you over." Gibbs looked at Fornell for verification and received a nod.

The FBI agent was leaning against the counter, eating a banana. "You got a couple of minutes, Gibbs. Don't take advantage of my good nature," he warned with a taut smile.

Tony reluctantly let go of Gibbs' hand and said with resolve, "I'm not going to let them come down on you for protecting me, Jethro. It's not fair."

Gibbs couldn't help smiling. He patted Tony's cheek. "I've been through worse. Still here to talk about it."

After a long moment Tony said unhappily, "It's still not fair."

***

Gibbs passed by Jenny and Burley when he walked into the suite that the Excelsior Grande Hotel management had loaned them for their command center. His agents were in the living room area, huddled over a computer terminal. They were engrossed in a discussion with one of the FBI agents, a serious young man called Mallory, Gibbs recalled, about alternating transmission frequencies or some such thing that Gibbs didn't waste his time trying to understand. Two of Fornell's men were seated on the couch, one on the phone and the other checking his weapons. Gibbs nodded to them and they acknowledged him in return, their eyes watchful and businesslike; they were both gray-haired, seasoned agents, which was fine by Gibbs.

Jenny barely covered her smirk when she looked up and saw Gibbs. She casually dangled a headset from her fingers and tapped a finger to her lips, and Gibbs immediately knew that Jenny and Burley had been listening in on him and Tony over in DiNozzo's suite. He hoped to hell there hadn't been any hidden cameras in the bathroom; he'd been so engrossed in taking care of Tony that he hadn't even thought about the surveillance equipment.

Burley flushed a beet-red color but he cleared his throat and spoke up bravely. "Uh, it looks like we accidentally erased some audio we received from the bathroom mic. Nobody bothered to put a camera in there. Sorry, Agent Gibbs," he said with such a patent lack of sincerity that Gibbs made a mental note to never put Burley undercover.

After a long moment of awkward silence, Gibbs nodded his acknowledgment to his team members. He was confident that they'd both keep their mouths shut but, when this was all over, he was going to personally double-check all the audio and video evidence – just to be sure. From Agent Mallory's apparent confusion it appeared that the FBI agent didn't have a clue what was going on, for which Gibbs was grateful.

***

Gibbs had to admit that DiNozzo Sr. looked pretty bad, but he didn't feel one scrap of remorse for beating up the man. In fact, he was sorry he hadn't caused more permanent damage to the sorry son-of-a-bitch, and was harboring the hope that Senior was suffering from some undetected internal bleeding that would prove to be fatal. On the other hand, if Tony's father survived, then Gibbs just might get the chance to shoot him at some point later on, which would prove to be mighty satisfying. Gibbs almost laughed aloud at his violent thoughts – it looked like Tony wasn't the only one with fantasies of revenge.

DiNozzo Sr. sat on a hard chair at the table under the bright lights of the small kitchen, with one sleeve of his bloodstained dress shirt rolled up while Ducky took his blood pressure. DiNozzo sported a black eye and had bits of cotton wool stuffed up his bleeding nose; his mouth was a mess and he had a sore-looking and very swollen jaw. Gibbs remembered delivering a good set of punishing blows to Senior's rib cage as well, and he was sure that there were nice black-and-blue marks hidden under the man's shirt. He hoped every single bruise hurt like hell.

***end chapter 37***


	38. The Law

DiNozzo Sr. sat at the small table in the kitchen area, his eyes burning with hostility as he watched Gibbs approach. "Come to finish off what you started?" DiNozzo sneered.  
   
Gibbs, who had expected no less from the man, greeted him with a broad smile. "Lookin' good, DiNozzo," he said. "Dr. Mallard," Gibbs said casually to Ducky, meantime keeping his eyes fixed on DiNozzo's battered face. He stopped only a couple of feet away from DiNozzo, close enough to be intimidating yet far enough away to counter any moves Tony's father might make, should he decide to kick up a fuss. From the way Senior sat, on edge but not spring-loaded, Gibbs didn't anticipate they'd be exchanging punches anytime soon.  
   
Ducky nodded a greeting to Gibbs but went back to reading DiNozzo's blood pressure. "Just relax," the ME said, although it was obvious from the tension radiating from DiNozzo's body that he was unlikely to be at ease as long as Gibbs was in the same room.  
   
"Police brutality at its finest," DiNozzo said derisively, his words slightly thick and muffled due to his injured mouth and blood-clogged nose. "Just another of your many boorish talents, Special Agent Gibbs?"  
   
"I can demonstrate some of my other talents, if ya like, DiNozzo, but I don't think you'd enjoy them too much," Gibbs said with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Most of them involve lethal force."  
   
Gibbs had to hand it to Tony's father – there was only a brief flicker of unease in DiNozzo's eyes before he raised his chin and faced his enemy. It was so brief that Gibbs probably wouldn’t have noticed it if he hadn't been observing the man closely. That kind of fast reaction – the way DiNozzo swiftly drew his emotions inward and assumed a cool outward expression – hadn't been learned overnight. That came from a lifetime of practice, from childhood, like the way Tony erected an impenetrable façade when confronted with a tough situation. It made Gibbs wonder if Anthony DiNozzo Sr.'s treatment of his son was part of a cycle that had begun a generation earlier.  
   
"No, I've had quite enough demonstration of your skills, thank you very much. What I'm really interested in knowing, Agent Gibbs," DiNozzo said contemptuously, "is what gives you the right to corrupt my son. You seem to have developed quite an interest in him. Trying to steal him away from me, are you?"  
   
Gibbs snorted. "Hell, you sent Tony to me. You set it all up, practically dumped him in my lap," he accused. "You used your own kid to get something you could use against me, to cover your ass in case you got picked up by NCIS. You didn't really think it would work, did ya?" Gibbs could feel Ducky's eyes upon him as he removed the blood pressure cuff from Senior's arm; this was the first time the ME had heard any of these details but he was covering his surprise with his usual aplomb.  
   
DiNozzo studied Gibbs for a long moment then said, appearing slightly amused, "I can tell you're one hell of a cold bastard, Agent Gibbs, but if I know Junior, he enjoyed trying."  
   
Gibbs scowled at DiNozzo with the same expression he'd used to keep raw recruits trembling in their boots. "How about you explain to me, DiNozzo, why you sent your kid to do a man's job."  
   
As soon as Ducky gathered his equipment from the kitchen table and stepped to one side, Senior leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, wincing slightly when he touched his bruised ribs. "I do so admire a man with strong principles. I have some myself, including setting goals and going after them." He said, after a thoughtful pause, "It pays to send someone else in to do the dirty work. Besides, I think we both agree that Junior brings a certain appeal to the table, hmm?" DiNozzo started to smile but he winced and touched his split lip with a couple of fingers. He withdrew his hand and inspected his fingertips, seemingly fascinated by the smear of blood on them. "Ever since Junior met you last summer," he said, almost absently, "he's become unruly and disobedient. So much so that his behavior has demanded discipline." Licking the blood off his fingers, DiNozzo looked up and locked eyes with Gibbs. "I made sure that he fully understood that it was your fault that he was being punished."  
   
"Don't blame me for your fucked-up treatment of Tony," Gibbs snarled. "You enjoy dominating people, especially those you know won't fight back – only Tony started fighting back, didn't he? He showed you he couldn’t be intimidated any more, stuck up for himself. You lost your power over him and that scared you, didn't it? If you can't handle a teenager, what hope do you have controlling the big boys you deal with in the boardroom?"  
   
His façade slipping a little, DiNozzo retorted hotly, "Junior is lucky that I'm there for him, willing to pay attention to his needs. The boy needs a firm hand."  
   
Gibbs leaned over DiNozzo, laying down the law in a low, dangerous voice, "Your days of hurting Tony are over, DiNozzo. If you ever touch him again I'll show you the meaning of a firm hand." Despite his intention to talk to DiNozzo without resorting to violence, Gibbs found his anger rising dangerously.  
   
"Dr. Mallard," DiNozzo called, his eyes skittering towards Ducky as if he expected the presence of the doctor was enough to prevent Gibbs from actually striking him. Ducky returned the look of entreaty with a censorious one of his own, making it clear he agreed with Gibbs wholeheartedly.  
   
Gibbs didn't let up with the threats. "Next time you won't be needing the services of a doctor because there won't be enough of you left to stitch together." DiNozzo was leaning as far back in the kitchen chair as he could without it tipping over backwards, and this time Gibbs could clearly see the fear in his face.  
   
Ducky cleared his throat discreetly and said in an undertone to Gibbs, "I would suggest, my dear boy, that you save any punishment you plan to mete out for a less public venue." The ME made a small motion with his hand to indicate the presence of Fornell's young agent, Mallory, who stood in the doorway observing the three men. It was obvious the FBI agent was trying to figure out what, if any, action he should undertake.  
   
"Hell, I wasn't going to touch him," Gibbs said as he straightened and took a step away from DiNozzo. Ducky merely raised his eyebrows in disbelief, inducing Gibbs to say, loud enough for Agent Mallory to hear, "I promised Fornell I'd keep my hands to myself."  
   
Agent Mallory said, a little too loudly, "Agent Fornell has instructed me to be present at any and all questioning or conversation between Agent Gibbs and–"  
   
Gibbs muttered, "Geez, just what we need, a damned probie." He ignored the young agent in order to concentrate on DiNozzo, who was watching him warily. Gibbs warned, "You will never – _never_ – get the chance to touch Tony, ever again. I'm going to personally see to it that Tony's treated right from now on, and I have the backing of NCIS on this matter."  
   
Despite having a dangerous federal agent too close for comfort, DiNozzo made a sound of disdain. "You think you're the first person to try to save my boy? You're at the end of a long line, Gibbs. Many men have tried to take Junior from me but they always fail. He always comes back to Daddy," Senior said with a self-satisfied smile.  
   
Gibbs gritted his teeth and said, "Kids grow up and move out, DiNozzo. Get over it."  
   
Ducky rummaged around in his medical bag. "Just one more procedure and I shall be out of your way, gentlemen," he said nonchalantly, as if he wasn't standing between two men who would gladly murder each other if given half a chance. "Ah, here we are." Ducky pulled a bottle from his bag, doused some cotton balls with the liquid, and then efficiently dabbed at a cut on DiNozzo's swollen jaw.  
   
DiNozzo jerked away and exclaimed, "Ow!" He stared accusingly at the ME. "What the hell was that?"  
   
"Oh dear, I am so sorry," apologized Ducky with exaggerated sincerity. "Did I hurt you? What a pity. I'm afraid I'm quite unused to tending to patients who are still breathing."  
   
DiNozzo tried to distance himself from Ducky, even though there was nowhere to go. "What kind of doctor are you, anyway?"  
   
"He's our medical examiner," Gibbs said with a humorless grin. "He plays with dead bodies. He's the one who's going to cut a nice big 'Y' down the center of your chest, DiNozzo, and then he's gonna cut your heart out and dump it in a bucket once he gets you all to himself down in autopsy. That is, if you even have a heart." He enjoyed the way DiNozzo's face paled.  
   
"How dare you–" Senior bristled.  
   
Agent Mallory took a step towards Gibbs, who turned his head and glared at the young man. "Rule 22. Don't ever interrupt my interrogation." That was warning enough to convince Mallory to return to his post in the doorway.  
   
"That does sound a wee bit bloodthirsty, Agent Gibbs," said Ducky, cutting DiNozzo off. "Although you are quite correct." To DiNozzo he explained matter-of-factly, "I will also excise your lungs, liver, and other organs, and I will, of course, saw off the top of your skull so that I may take a slice of your brain tissue so that I may examine it thoroughly."  
   
"You'll do no such thing–"  
   
"Sure he will," Gibbs interrupted. "Everyone I kill ends up laid out on one of Dr. Mallard's slabs in autopsy."  
   
"Yes, you do keep me busy, Agent Gibbs." Ducky snapped his medical bag shut and said, with a sweet smile, "Oh, by the way, you really should watch your blood pressure, Mr. DiNozzo. If I had such a high reading I should be extremely concerned about the risk of stroke. Ah well, I believe I am finished here, so good evening, gentlemen. I am so looking forward to meeting you again, Mr. DiNozzo, though I expect it will be under quite different circumstances," he said with a sigh.  
   
Gibbs caught Ducky's arm before he left and asked in a quiet voice, "Duck, think you can run interference for me?" Gibbs glanced briefly at the FBI agent who was keeping an eye them.  
   
"Of course." Ducky picked up his bag and winked at Gibbs as he passed him. With his usual finesse, the ME managed to usher the FBI agent out of the kitchen, saying, "You know, my dear boy, Agent Mallory isn't it? I have noticed you have a slight blemish on the back of your neck and if that was on my skin, with all of my experience with cancerous lesions, I would be quite concerned. Perhaps you'll allow me to have a closer look at it for you. The light is so much better in the lounge area…"  
   
***  
   
DiNozzo, used to bluffing his way through corporate meetings for high stakes, rose from his chair and took an offensive position, his hands curled into fists. "You can threaten me all you like–."  
   
Gibbs stepped forward and got in Senior's face. "Oh, this isn't just any old threat, DiNozzo. See, the way I figure it, you have nothing left to bargain with. If your pals haven't figured out by now that you've double-crossed them and stole millions out of their pockets, they soon will. Tell me, what's the going price for a shipload full of heavy weapons?"  
   
Dinozzo, his face red with anger, demanded, "Get Fornell in here. Nobody was supposed to know–"  
   
"NCIS already knew about the freighter," Gibbs cut in. "You were greedy, sold out to the Peruvians, but afterwards you got scared that Torres and Harding would find out so you decided it was time to put an end to them. When someone tipped off the FBI about your involvement, you agreed to give them enough evidence to bring down your mob pal, Torres, without incriminating yourself. Easy way out, letting the feds take care of your buddies while you fly that fancy jet of yours to Dubai where you can live off the spoils." From the stunned look on Senior's face, Gibbs knew he'd got it right.  
   
"All right, I knew the FBI was putting the pressure on Torres," Senior said, giving in. "They've been watching his every move for months now. I was just trying to speed things up. If I had given him his share of the money the feds would have frozen it along with his other assets. He wouldn’t have taken the deal the Peruvians offered anyway. Torres is always talking about arming his brothers down in Colombia so they could overthrow the government but what they paid for the shipment of guns wouldn't have covered our costs. All Torres cares about is being able to move his drugs out of the country. Kingston, Senator Harding, he set up the deal with the Peruvians so we'd make a profit," Senior admitted. "It was his idea to cut Torres out."  
   
"But you turned on Harding, too. Your old pal, your frat brother. Now why the hell would you do that, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked Senior, genuinely puzzled.  
   
DiNozzo shouted in frustration, "Because he was getting out of control! I want to know what the hell is taking you feds so long to arrest him! There has to be one judge in this town willing to write a warrant on a senator. You haven't even brought Harding in for questioning, and he's out there with Torres right now. The pair of them are coming here and…you don't know what they're like when they're together," he said insistently.  
   
"You're afraid they're gonna have a little chat on the way over, put two and two together, come gunning for you." Gibbs pressed on relentlessly, prodding Senior's chest with a finger, "And you just figured out Harding is crazy? What happened to make you decide you've have enough? He get you to help him dispose of one of the sailors he murdered?"  
   
It looked like something had changed in DiNozzo's demeanor the moment he'd admitted that his friend was out of control, and Gibbs planned to take advantage of it. If he could get DiNozzo to confess to being witness to any part of Harding's killings it would help secure warrants to arrest the senator and to search his property. Then, maybe, they could abort this op before Tony had to meet Harding and Torres.  
   
"I didn't even know he'd committed all those murders," Senior said, "until you phoned me to pester me with more questions. I confronted Kingston and he acted crazy, going on about how he becomes one with their bodies and how he makes them see the light through their pain," DiNozzo said, obviously disturbed by his friend's behavior. "I knew he had a thing for young men in uniform, for the ones who fight before they submit. He's always been that way, but I thought it was under control and…damn it, I didn't know what he was doing to those boys until he made me help him! Briggs was out of town and…and Sir called me to help him move something and…God, the boy was so…so broken," DiNozzo said, his voice so quiet it was almost a whisper.  
   
Gibbs stood there, listening to DiNozzo open up, wanting to shake the man until his capped teeth rattled for being so willfully blind as to what Harding had been doing. Gibbs didn't miss the way DiNozzo had, for the first time in his presence, begun to refer to Senator Harding as 'Sir.' Apparently there was a lot more to their relationship than anyone had guessed.  
   
His eyes fixed on some faraway memory, DiNozzo continued, "I watched Sir wrap the body in plastic and we got it onto his car, and he drove us out in the middle of nowhere. We hauled it to the river's edge…it was heavy…and the current pulled the body away and…it was gone, like it had never even been there. Afterwards, when he acted as if nothing had happened, as if we hadn't just tossed a dead body into the Potomac, I knew it couldn’t go on, that I had to get away from him."  
   
"You never saw him kill anyone?"  
   
DiNozzo ran a hand over his mouth and shook his head. He was breathing heavily, as if he'd just helped his friend dump a body in the river. "No."  
   
"You ever see him with any of the missing sailors?"  
   
"No, he keeps all that to himself. He's intensely private. He won't…share," DiNozzo said, a touch of jealousy coloring his tone.  
   
Trying to keep his voice even and not too accusatory, Gibbs encouraged Senior to continue. "So you started grabbing whatever money you could and made plans to leave the country."  
   
DiNozzo's eyes came back in focus and he glanced at Gibbs and nodded. "I had some deals I had to close and they were taking longer than I anticipated. But the FBI was following me. Oh, they'd done it before, but not like this. I knew…I didn't have long."  
   
"Then you sent Tony to get close to an NCIS agent – me – to obtain something you could use as collateral in case we brought charges on you before you could get away." Gibbs wondered why DiNozzo hadn't sent Tony to seduce Fornell, if they were snapping at his heels.  
   
"Yes, that was part of it, but…I sent Junior to you because I saw the way you looked at him, at my home, last summer," DiNozzo claimed, his eyes pleading for Gibbs to understand.  
   
"Blackmail," Gibbs said, still not understanding why DiNozzo had chosen to send Tony to him instead of an FBI agent.  
   
"Yes, maybe…but that wasn't all of it," DiNozzo protested. He wiped the sweat off his brow with hand and divulged in a rush of words, "It's Sir – he's wanted Junior ever since he had a taste of him. Sir keeps asking for him but I've been putting him off for the past four years. Now my son is the right age. He's exactly what Sir likes, what he covets, a sweet-tasting boy who'll put up a fight. I've tried to keep Junior out of his damned hands, but Sir has been so demanding. It's at the point where I know Sir is going to grab my son next. Once he gets an idea in his head, there's no way of stopping him!"  
   
"So you're planning on handing Tony over to a pervert who tortures and kills his victims?"  
   
"God no! You don't understand, Gibbs. Look, I knew if you got a taste of Junior you'd never let him go. You'd be able to protect him! Why the hell do you think I set the whole thing up, leaving Junior in South Brewer, making sure that he called you for help? I told him to get close to you, to get under your skin. He's good at that and I can tell you like him," DiNozzo said in an almost wheedling tone. "Sir's been getting impatient and when he demands I hand my boy over to him, which I know he's planning on doing tonight, I'm not…I'm not sure I'm going to be able to refuse. But I know… I know that _you_ will never let that happen."  
   
Gibbs stood back and stared at DiNozzo, finally understanding what drove the man. "You were one of Harding's boys, weren't you? When did it start, when you were in college together? Is that when he beat you and got off on it and trained you to call him Sir? He wrap his school tie around your neck, cut off your air to make you come?" DiNozzo groaned and looked away until Gibbs slammed the flat of his hand down on the kitchen table with a bang. "You're jealous of your own son. You'll do anything to prevent Sir from having him."  
   
DiNozzo replied, his face taut with anger and desperation, "Yes! Yes, damn it! Do you have any idea what it's like to grow older and have your lover turn to younger men, again and again! He was never like this when we were first together, never so…perverted. He was rough but he never hurt anyone, not permanently, until…"  
   
"Until he was in the Navy and he beat his partner senseless during sex."  
   
DiNozzo nodded. "He had a hard time getting out of that one, but his old bastard of a father, Vice Admiral Harding, pulled some strings and fixed it for him. Look, I know that Sir cares about me! He does, but…he has needs and…"  
   
"He's a rapist and a murderer and you've been covering for him all these years, DiNozzo!" Gibbs yelled. He grabbed a fistful of DiNozzo's bloodstained shirt and shoved him back into his chair. "You listen to me, and you listen good. This is not a negotiation. Tony's going to be coming in here any minute. You are not to call him Junior or boy, but Tony. You are going to tell your son that you're sorry, and you are going to damned well beg for his forgiveness, and then you are going to tell him that you support his decision to do whatever he chooses – college or whatever it is his heart desires. And then you're going to walk clear away from him, DiNozzo, and you are never to speak to him again. Do I make myself clear?"  
   
DiNozzo stared at Gibbs with wide eyes then inhaled a ragged breath and nodded.  
   
"Just know this – if you ever do anything to hurt Tony I'm going to nail you to a wall, cut off your balls and stuff them in your mouth, and then I'm gonna eviscerate you and leave you hanging for the vultures to finish off."  
   
Fornell's voice boomed from right behind Gibbs. "Now why is it, Agent Gibbs, that I can't leave you alone for five minutes without you threatening my suspects with bodily harm?"  
   
*** end chapter 38***


	39. The Right Thing

Gibbs turned, and as he expected, Tony was standing at Fornell's side in the kitchen doorway. If Tony's slightly stunned expression was anything to go by, he'd heard the threats Gibbs had just made to Senior. Hopefully he hadn't heard his father's confession, which had preceded those threats; learning what his father had been up to with Harding, and Senior's twisted excuses for his actions, would be enough to put Tony off his game.

Gibbs still couldn’t wrap his mind around DiNozzo's notion that he could keep Tony safe from a predatory killer by forcing his son to make sexual advances on a federal agent. The expectation that the agent – Gibbs – would then become Tony's protector was a huge gamble that had, luckily for all of them, paid off.

If Senior had checked Gibbs out as soon as he'd come around to his Long Island estate last summer – which was exactly what Gibbs would have done if he'd have been in Senior's shoes – he would have found out that the former Marine was loyal and steadfast, and possessed all the traits that would make him a fine guardian for his boy.  But, considering that Senior had witnessed Gibbs kiss Tony by the pool, putting his trust in the special agent had been a foolhardy thing to do. It was crazy to trade one dangerously unpredictable liaison for another, but then, if their recent conversation was anything to go by, Senior was delusional, if not completely off his rocker.

Who knew what hands Tony might have ended up, and what might have become of him if Gibbs hadn't fallen headlong into the trap Senior had set for him? Gibbs was certain that he never would have sought out Tony of his own accord, even though he'd been attracted to the teenager from the first moment he'd laid eyes upon him. He'd known right from the start that there was no future for them, and had walked away with no expectations and a craving for something he couldn’t have. Now there seemed to be a glimmer of hope that he'd be able to include Tony in his life, in some manner or form, but how they'd work it all out, Gibbs was unsure. He shoved his worries aside and concentrated on the job at hand, which was the best way to protect Tony right now.

DiNozzo, who had his eyes fixed upon Fornell, apparently saw the FBI agent as his savior after being bullied by Gibbs. He said with relief, "Agent Fornell!"

"You finished terrorizing Mr. DiNozzo, Gibbs?" asked Fornell, who managed to appear both amused and annoyed at the NCIS agent.

Gibbs moved away from DiNozzo and said unapologetically, "Just can't help myself." The best thing that had come out of his heated exchange with Tony's father was DiNozzo's admission that he'd aided Senator Harding in disposing of a body. Gibbs couldn’t wait to inform his boss that DiNozzo had given them probable cause to search Harding's residence and vehicles for evidence of criminal activity. They'd be at his DC estate within the hour once Director Morrow obtained the warrant and his gut told him that that's where they'd find the most recently kidnapped petty officer, PO Charlie Kovaks – still alive.

Fornell shook his head and laughed at Gibbs' admission. "It's the nature of the beast, Gibbs. How about giving the kid a moment with his father," he suggested, gently pushing Tony past Gibbs and indicating that Gibbs should back off.

Tony's eyes slid past Gibbs as if he didn't see him, and he focused on his father, betraying no emotion as he took in Senior's disheveled and blood-stained appearance. At least Tony didn't appear to be angry or upset with Gibbs for beating up his father. In fact, he seemed to be taking it all surprisingly well.

Even if he didn't like to see Tony's detached expression, Gibbs understood that the young man had erected a wall around himself as his way of dealing with the stressful situation. Gibbs took a moment to remember that he'd been privileged to see another side of Tony – the lighthearted, loving Tony who showed his feelings openly when he knew he was safe, when he was with someone who loved him and cared about his wellbeing. It gave Gibbs a good feeling to know that he was able to provide a sense of security for Tony, and he swore that no matter what happened down the road, no matter what choices in life the young man made, Tony would always have a safe place to come home to.

Gibbs retreated to the doorway, never taking his eyes off Tony. When Fornell nudged his arm, he shrugged it off. Nothing could induce him to leave Tony alone with Senior right now.

Tony slowly approached his father, who stood to meet him. They inspected each other warily, neither saying a word, the older DiNozzo's jaw set as if he was holding himself firmly in check.

From where he stood, Gibbs could see Tony's face in profile. The young man was looking over his father's bruised face, taking in the swollen jaw and the split lip, but whatever his feelings might be, he was doing a good job of keeping them to himself. After a long pause, Tony seemed to reach a decision. He turned and reached for his father's suit jacket, which was slung over an empty kitchen chair. After shaking it Tony held it out for Senior to put on. "Here, Dad." DiNozzo Sr. appeared startled but he rolled down his shirtsleeves and donned his jacket with his son's assistance. Tony took a moment to tuck the white handkerchief neatly in the suit's breast pocket, and then offered his father a bland smile. "There, that's better."

Considering the battered state of Senior's face and the dried bloodstains on his shirtfront, Tony's comment was incongruous but Senior accepted his son's small gesture with a nod. Senior glanced towards the doorway as if seeking an avenue of escape, only to meet Gibbs' uncompromising glare. He quickly turned his attention back to his son and began to speak to him, haltingly at first, but then in his usual smooth manner.

Gibbs couldn’t hear every word but he could tell that Senior was apologizing to his son, and telling him he would support him, no matter what he wanted to do with his life. It was obvious the words did not come easy to the man.

DiNozzo finished up, saying, "You close this deal just like I've taught you. Remember – DiNozzos don't know the meaning of the word 'lose.' I know you'll make me proud, no matter what happens…no matter what you do…Tony."

In the end DiNozzo fulfilled his promise to Gibbs, and apparently performed his duty very well because Tony reached out and enveloped his father in a big hug. DiNozzo looked startled at first but after hesitating he returned the hug and even kissed Tony on both cheeks, saying in a low voice. " _Chi fa da sé, fa per tre."_ They broke apart, their faces a bit flushed, and Gibbs nodded in satisfaction. Now, if only the rest of the night went as smoothly.

Gibbs caught Fornell looking speculatively at the DiNozzos, father and son. Fornell shrugged and explained, " _Chi fa da sé, fa per tre._ Loosely translated, it means, 'If you want it done right, do it yourself.'"

***

Right on cue, Mike Franks returned, and Gibbs joined his boss in a quiet corner of the living room. He figured that it was safe to leave Tony and his father under Agent Fornell's watchful eye for a few minutes. Fornell's senior agents, Esposito and Greene, were sitting on the living room couch, busy adjusting their surveillance equipment, and barely glanced their way. Burley and Shepard were hunched over their own monitor, talking in low tones.

Franks said to Gibbs, with a barely hidden smirk, "Before Ducky went back to the Navy Yard he told me that he expected he'd be getting a call to bring the meat wagon here before the night was over, to pick up DiNozzo's body once you were done interrogating him." Franks peered in the direction of the kitchen and said, as if shocked, "Huh, looks like the old bastard's still alive. You slipping in your old age, Probie?"

"Night's still young," Gibbs said dryly. "I might be old, Boss, but at least I got DiNozzo to talk a bit." He related to his boss everything that DiNozzo had told him in the kitchen, focusing on DiNozzo's confession that he had helped Senator Harding toss a body in the Potomac. "He wasn't clear about the date," Gibbs said, "but it sounds like the deceased was Private Brownlee, the sailor who washed up at Indian Head a couple of weeks ago. It looks like that follow-up phone call I made to DiNozzo right after we recovered the body prompted him to have a little talk with Harding, and that got the ball rolling."

And soon after that, thought Gibbs, he'd received a phone call from young Tony DiNozzo, pleading for help. Gibbs didn't reveal to Mike Franks what had motivated DiNozzo to send his son to him, nor the details of DiNozzo Sr.'s relationship with Harding, but he would if he deemed the information to be pertinent at a later date.

"Good work, Gibbs. Next time I'll send you to interrogate the suspects and we'll see if you have a talent for it." Franks lost no time in phoning Director Morrow with the new information that placed DiNozzo Sr. and Senator Kingston Harding together, disposing of a dead body in DC.

While his boss was on the phone, Gibbs observed Tony, who was still in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, his arms crossed over his chest, while Fornell and his father engaged in small talk. Gibbs felt sympathy for Tony; the teenager badly wanted to connect with his dad in a normal way, reminding Gibbs of his own strained relationship with his dad. Except, unlike DiNozzo Sr., Jackson Gibbs' worst flaw was being a bit ornery and difficult to get along with. Gibbs believed that it would be impossible for Tony to become his own person unless he kept a considerable distance, both physical and emotional, from his father.

As soon as he completed his call, Franks turned to his second-in-command and said, "Morrow's phoning the judge right now, and he'll call back when the warrant is approved. We can make a move on the senator as soon as we get confirmation."

"How long will it take?"

"Maybe thirty minutes, if he can reach the judge right away." Franks shrugged in apology, knowing they were cutting it close. Harding and Torres were due to walk through the door to the suite across the hallway within the hour. "Meanwhile orders are we stay here and wait for Harding and Torres until the director says otherwise."

Fornell came out of the kitchen saying, "All right everyone, places. Tony, you come with me and I'll get you settled in your dad's suite." He ordered Agent Connelly to keep DiNozzo Sr. in the kitchen, and escorted Tony towards the exit. Seeing Gibbs' uneasy expression as they passed by, Fornell assured him, "Hey, we've got the whole place wired and my men, Esposito and Greene, are both experienced at surveillance. They're not going to lose your boy, Gibbs. Not on my watch."

Keeping one hand on Tony's arm, as if making sure the young man didn't stray, Fornell paused to check on his two seasoned agents, who were monitoring their equipment, and got assurance from them that everything was working fine.

As soon as Tony made eye contact with Gibbs, his expression softened and he managed to conjure up a small smile. Gibbs wanted, so much, to take Tony in his arms, to simply hold him and assure him that once this night was over his life was going to change for the better. It was impossible to reach out and touch Tony with all the people surrounding them, and he could sense Jenny avidly watching them. As was often the case, Gibbs couldn’t get any words past his lips, and being unable to let his young lover know how much he cared, how deeply he loved him, was killing him.

Tony released a breath that was almost a laugh, and his smile broadened, and Gibbs knew that he understood without the necessity of words.

After some last-minute instructions to his agents, Fornell headed for the door, taking Tony with him. Gibbs started to follow but the FBI agent halted him. "Hey, let me do my job, Gibbs."

Ignoring Fornell, Gibbs said, "I'll go with you, Tony," but before he could take more than a couple of steps, Franks barred his way.

"Let him take Tony over, Gibbs," Franks said, clearly making it an order. "We can listen in from here."

Gibbs almost fought his boss on the matter, but Tony gave him a little wink that said he'd be fine then turned to Fornell and said, "You know, Tobias, this reminds me of a movie…"

Fornell placed one hand on Tony's back, between his shoulder blades, and ushered him out of the suite. "I think we need to have a discussion about how you address your elders, Tony."

Tony looked back and sent Gibbs a slightly nervous smile. Gibbs, a sudden spike of jealousy at the sight of Fornell's hand on Tony, could do no more than meet Tony's eyes and send a silent promise to him that he'd be watching his back.

As Tony walked across the hall, Gibbs could hear him tease, "So, _Agent Fornell_ , do I get any work-study credits for this job? Does this mean when I'm old enough, I can apply to the FBI? The age requirement is twenty-three, right?"

Gibbs grinned when Fornell just about growled, "I get the feeling you'll never be old enough to be a federal agent, DiNozzo."

Just before he disappeared into his father's suite, Tony snuck one final glance at Gibbs over his shoulder and wiggled his ass, leaving Gibbs shaking his head and wondering how the hell they were ever going to pull this off.

***

Franks asked Agents Burley and Shepard, who were monitoring the movements of the cell phones they were able to track, for a sit-rep. Jenny reported that Senator Harding's assistant, Briggs, had turned his phone on twenty minutes earlier and was currently on the move, his vehicle heading into downtown DC. "He hasn't made any calls though."

Burley said, "Torres' second-in-command, Rick Azari, his phone is at the Majestic Towers Hotel, about ten blocks from here, and has been stationery for an hour. He has placed two calls from the cell, one to an escort service, and another to a New York number that matches his home address. Called the wife, Boss, after he called for a hooker."

Gibbs turned to Fornell's men. "Where's Alonzo Torres right now?"

Fornell's agent, Esposito, revealed, "Torres' location is unknown. The surveillance team who was on him…uh…lost him this morning, and he still hasn't shown up."

Fuming, Franks asked, "You lose the biggest mobster on the east coast, in the middle of an operation to take him down?"

Running his hand over his short graying hair, Esposito said, "Look, Torres has done this before. Slips the leash. Never carries his own cell phone, doesn't drive the same car twice. He isn't stupid; that's why he's at the top of his heap."

"Anyone got anything good to report?" Franks demanded.

After a discussion between the NCIS and FBI agents as to the possible whereabouts of Senator Harding, which was all speculation, Franks gave up and called down to Pacci in the Excelsior's lobby, where he was keeping an eye on the comings and goings of visitors.

Gibbs stood behind Fornell's man Greene, who was monitoring the audio feed. Greene turned up the volume so Gibbs could hear the chatter coming in from DiNozzo's suite. Gibbs smiled to himself at the sound of Tony's voice.

_"You ever see 'Stakeout' with Richard Dreyfuss? These two cops are given the job of keeping an eye on a mobster's girlfriend…"_

Within a few minutes Fornell was back and he assured Gibbs that Tony was fine. "He's watching TV, Gibbs, and is taking it easy. He's got his game-face on. Stop being an old woman, for Chrissake." Gibbs frowned in reply so Fornell said, "How about we go and do something entertaining and have a talk with Senior? I want him to call his buddies and make sure they're coming."

Gibbs nodded, glad of something to do before he went crazy worrying about Tony. He gave Burley's shoulder a quick squeeze and said, "Keep an eye on those phones and tell me as soon as Briggs' or any of the other players comes within a mile of this hotel." Burley nodded and Gibbs stepped into the kitchen.

DiNozzo was patting his pockets in search of something. At Fornell's querying look he admitted, "I can't seem to locate my cell phone. Do you still have it?"

Fornell sighed and asked tiredly, "Where's Mr. DiNozzo's phone, Agent Connelly?"

"Um, I believe you gave it back to him earlier so he could place those two calls, Agent Fornell. To the senator's aide and Mr. Torres' man."

Fornell ordered impatiently, "Locate the damned phone, Connelly." Meanwhile, he tossed a cell phone in DiNozzo's lap and ordered, "Use this one; it's a burn phone and it's safe. I want you to contact both Harding and Torres and make sure they're coming at eight."

"I've told you they don’t talk on cell phones, too risky," DiNozzo explained impatiently.

Fornell replied just as testily, "Then try a text this time. Just make contact with 'em."

DiNozzo handled the cell phone as if it were a foreign object, looking at it disdainfully.

Gibbs wondered if DiNozzo was stalling or if there was more going on. "Got a problem there, DiNozzo?"

Fornell demanded, "What's the hold up? You had no problem sending your pal Harding a message earlier. Said you were gonna hand your kid over to him. Wasn't that the message you texted him?"

"I never sent any such message," DiNozzo said, affronted. He glanced at Gibbs and then back at Fornell. "I told you that earlier and I'm telling you again: I didn't text anyone," he insisted. "I don't even know how to send a text message!"

"You tried to reach your pilot when you were in the conference room at NCIS," Gibbs pointed out, close to losing his temper. "And then you sent the senator a text when you were in the men's room, back at the Yard, so don't sit there pretending you can't send a text."

Franks joined them, crowding in on Senior. "You tryin' to blow smoke up our ass?"

"What? No! Yes, I tried to phone my pilot, but neither attempt went through," DiNozzo admitted. "But–"

Fornell cut him off abruptly. "Stop fucking with us, and text them now or I'll do it for you."

DiNozzo's eyes were blazing when he shouted, "I never sent any messages! I told that redhead that, and I told you the same when you questioned me in your interrogation room. I cannot read the stupid little letters on the phone. Never could figure the damned texting thing out! Newfangled technical crap – it's for kids. Junior always takes care of sending messages for me. Get him in here," DiNozzo demanded. "Get my son in here and he'll tell you."

Fornell snatched the phone from DiNozzo's hand and said something but Gibbs wasn't listening; it was as if someone had turned down the volume in the room. He searched DiNozzo's face and somehow knew the man was telling the truth. His heart beating hard, Gibbs turned on his heel and strode into the living room to Burley's side. "Burley, that message that went out of the Navy Yard earlier, the one from DiNozzo's phone…"

"He sent it from the men's room," Burley said with a sideways look at Jenny.

"The conference room blocks all calls, right?"

"Yeah," Burley said, puzzled.

"Both in and out," Jenny informed him.

Gibbs thought for a second and then asked, "What happens if someone types out a text message thing and sends it when they're inside a secure room?"

"You mean they hit 'send'?" asked Jenny.

Not knowing how the hell anyone even sent a text message, Gibbs said, "Yeah."

Burley and Shepard exchanged looks and started to talk in technical jargon, and Agent Esposito came over and joined in. Just when Gibbs was about to yell at them all to stop jabbering and tell him what he wanted to know in plain English, Esposito turned to Gibbs and said, "If it was set up that way, the phone would keep trying to send the message, and once the phone is outside that secure room, it would automatically redial multiple times. As soon as it got a signal the message would be sent."

Fornell had left DiNozzo in the kitchen and emerged to ask Gibbs, "What're you thinking?"

Gibbs' mind was whirling but he managed to ask, "What exactly was the text message that was sent from DiNozzo's phone?" His people, and his boss, were staring at him so he yelled, "What did it say? Word for word!"

It was Burley who accessed the call records on his computer, and told Gibbs, "The message issued from Mr DiNozzo's phone said, _'Meet me 7 pm front Excelsior. Urgent. Bringing J R for you.'_ " He looked at Gibbs and asked cautiously, "J R means 'Junior'?"

"You onto something, Gunny?" Franks asked with a concerned frown, "Was that bastard telling Senator Harding he'd be handing his kid over to him? To come and collect his gift?"

Gibbs muttered, "DiNozzo was telling the truth. He wasn't the one who…" He had a sudden image of Tony sitting on the conference room table, laughing and telling them about an Italian movie, baiting his father while he played around with his dad's cell phone. "Tony gave the phone back to his father," Gibbs said aloud. Jesus, it was Tony who had typed that message, who had set it up so that Senator Harding - Sir - would be sure to come to the hotel so he could pick up his prize. To pick up Tony. At seven o'clock. Gibbs glanced at his watch. His heart sank like a stone. God damn it! It was already five past seven. "No," he said under his breath. "No, no no…"

He ran out of the room, across the corridor and into DiNozzo's suite, the door banging against the wall when he rushed in. The TV was on with the sound low down, but Tony wasn't sitting in front of it. "Tony?" Gibbs moved quickly to the bedroom but Tony wasn't there. He called Tony's name again, hearing the frantic timbre of his own voice.

The door to the bathroom was closed but he could hear the shower running. Gibbs knew that Tony couldn’t be having a shower, not while he was wearing the locked chastity belt. He rapped on the closed door. "Tony? Tony!" Maybe Tony was feeling sick, nerves or something, he thought, hoping but not believing it for a second. Gibbs flung open the door and found the bathroom was empty. Tony wasn't there and a quick check of the other bedroom only proved Gibbs' worst fears to be true. "Damn it, Tony's gone!" The idiot, the stupid kid.

Franks was by his side, pulling out his phone and calling down to Pacci.

"He arranged to meet Harding on his own," Gibbs said, practically shouting to Fornell when he appeared in the doorway. "He's gone after Harding!"

"He's _what_?" Fornell cried.

Gibbs punched the wall and yelled, "Damn it, Tony!" Then, in a whisper, Gibbs moaned, "Damn it, you're going to get yourself killed."

***end chapter 39***


	40. Do it Yourself

Franks grabbed Gibbs' arm before he had a chance to run from DiNozzo's hotel suite. "Hey! Hang on there, Gunny."  
   
Gibbs turned on his boss, growling, "I'm going after Tony!"  
   
"Hold your horses." Franks held up his cell phone and quickly informed Gibbs, "Pacci just called from the lobby. He saw Tony getting into a limo."  
   
"And he didn't stop him?"  
   
"Pacci thought Tony might be undercover, part of the op," Franks said, trying to calm Gibbs down.  
   
"Well, he isn't! Pacci get the plate number?" Pacci was a good agent and, knowing his tenacity, he would probably have the owner of the limo identified before the vehicle got two blocks up the street.  
   
Franks nodded. "He's working on it and he's on his way up."  
   
"Wait! Tony's wire!" Gibbs exclaimed and hastened across the hall into the command center, striding directly to the FBI agents' post. "Give me the playback on Tony's audio from the time he left the suite," he barked.  
   
Esposito promptly did as Gibbs asked, and rewound the recording of the transmission from the microphone hidden in Tony's trousers. Meanwhile, Fornell, standing by Gibbs' side, directed Agent Greene to listen to the real-time audio coming from Tony's wire, and to keep them apprised of what was going on. Greene plugged in a pair of earphones, listened for a minute then reported to his boss, "Nothing right now except engine sounds, some muted traffic. Nobody's talking."  
   
Gibbs didn't like the sound of that, and all sorts of scenarios ran through his mind, none of them good. Tony could be hurt, drugged, or dead…He couldn't go there or else he wouldn’t be able to function and he needed to keep a clear head for Tony's sake.  
   
Mike Franks glared at the FBI agents and asked, in a scathing tone, "So you Feebs didn't see or hear the kid leave the room and head downstairs?"  
   
Esposito indicated the monitors that showed, in a split screen, various angles of the rooms in the suite across the hall. "I was watching the video and saw Tony go into the bathroom. Then I heard the water running on the audio feed. I figured he was occupied so I helped Agent Greene do some fine-tuning to our equipment. It was only for a couple of minutes. Tony must have snuck out then." He pressed a couple of buttons and the screen showed a replay of Tony slipping out of the suite and into the hall. The time stamp revealed that he'd left only a minute shy of 7 PM.  
   
Esposito was smart enough not to apologize aloud even though it was apparent that he was contrite. To Gibbs, their negligence was unforgivable. He wasn't exactly pleased with Burley and Shepard either, for not paying attention even if keeping tabs on Tony was not their primary focus.  
   
"You have my word we'll catch up to him," Fornell assured Gibbs.  
   
Gibbs turned on Fornell and snarled, "Yeah? I thought you were the guy who said you weren't going to lose Tony. Not on your watch, you said." Barely able to contain his anger, he said, between gritted teeth, "If anything happens to that boy–."  
   
Like Agent Esposito, Fornell knew better than to lock horns with Gibbs where Tony was concerned, and he eased off. "As soon as we verify he's with Senator Harding in his limo, we'll transfer the operation down to our surveillance van, and we'll be right on their tail."  
   
The last thing Gibbs wanted to do was wait but there was no point in rushing off if it meant they might be chasing the wrong vehicle. He exchanged looks with Mike Franks, who assured his agent, "The minute we have verification, Gunny, we'll be outta here like a shot. It's too risky to stop the limo in transit, so once it reaches its destination we'll move in."  
   
While they waited for Pacci to arrive, Gibbs asked the FBI agents, "What's the range on Tony's wire?" They'd expected to be picking up the transmission from across the hall, but now Tony was in a car being driven farther away by the second, and Gibbs was concerned they'd lose the signal. If that happened they'd have no clue as to Tony's location, and he'd be out there in Sir's company with nobody to watch his back.  
   
Fornell assured them, "It's the best set-up we've got in the Bureau; the range is about…" He looked to Agent Esposito for confirmation. "Seven miles."  
   
With Gibbs breathing down his neck, Esposito flipped a switch on the audio console he was manning, and said, "Okay, ready to play back, sir." He angled a speaker so Fornell, Franks and Gibbs could hear the recording clearly.  
   
Gibbs leaned over Esposito's shoulder, anxious to hear what had been happening to Tony since he'd left the building. At first there was a lot of background noise that he identified as an elevator, inconsequential chatter, presumably when Tony entered the lobby, and then some street sounds. Someone called Tony by name, with a "Good evening, Mr. DiNozzo," and asked if he needed a cab, or would he prefer for his car to be summoned; the doorman, Gibbs determined.  
   
When Tony's voice came over the speaker, it was surprisingly clear. "I have a ride. Thanks all the same, Mr. Carlton."  
   
Trust Tony to know the name of the doorman, and to be so polite to him, although Gibbs had heard a hint of nervousness in Tony's voice.  
   
Then Tony said, "I'm in front of the Excelsior." After a beat he said, "Yes, Sir."  
   
That time Gibbs definitely heard uncertainty in Tony's voice and he cursed the teenager for running off like he had. What the hell was he trying to prove? Gibbs didn't want to believe that Tony was planning on making an attempt on Senator Harding's life out of revenge. Shit, and he'd given Tony his belt with the knife hidden behind the buckle.  
   
Gibbs then remembered that Tony had seemed very concerned when he'd overheard Franks asking if he was looking to get fired – that was after he'd roughed up DiNozzo Sr.. Tony must be under the impression that Gibbs' job was in jeopardy and Gibbs had never taken the time to explain to Tony that both the director and SecNav wanted him to remain on the case.  
   
Also, Tony was aware of how important it was that they get evidence in order for the search warrants to be issued. Was he making an attempt to get that proof on his own?  Tony had sent that text to Sir earlier in the day, offering himself as bait because he, too, believed that it was unlikely that Harding and Torres would turn up at the hotel and simply spill their guts for the feds. Tony had sent a message to Harding, and had arranged his own meeting with the senator – a meeting that Harding would definitely keep. Gibbs believed that Tony gone off on his own to collect that much-needed evidence, to somehow get Harding to say something that would incriminate himself.  
   
Gibbs didn't know what to think of Tony – he was brave and gutsy, and incredibly stupid and irresponsible at the same time. Right from the start, Tony had brought out conflicting emotions in Gibbs and now the young man made him pissed off and proud at the same time.  
   
He heard Tony's voice again, saying, "I'll be waiting, Sir." Then there was a click and, speaking under his breath, Tony said, "This had better work."  
   
There was no audible reply and Gibbs realized that the one-sided conversation was because Tony was speaking into a phone. He turned to Franks and asked, "Where'd he get the phone?"  
   
"Not from me," Franks replied, patting his pocket.  
   
But even as he asked, Gibbs noticed DiNozzo Sr. standing at the edge of the living room, his nervousness unmistakable. Gibbs ordered Esposito, "Pause the tape a second." He moved over to confront Tony's father, and used both hands to grab him by his suit jacket. "You gave Tony your cell phone," Gibbs accused furiously, shoving DiNozzo back towards the kitchen.  
   
Fornell was by Gibbs' side, demanding the truth until Tony's father replied loudly, "I didn't give Junior my phone. He must have taken it!"  
   
Gibbs met Fornell's eyes and they both thought the same thing; Tony had hugged his father, which Gibbs had thought odd at the time, considering the bad blood between them. He'd overlooked it because he'd assumed that Tony was forgiving his old man as a first step towards reconciliation. How wrong could he have been?  
   
Fornell looked sideways at Gibbs and asked wryly, "You sure the kid isn't one of your agents, Gibbs? 'Cause, I mean, sending secret text messages, pick-pocketing a phone, going undercover and slipping out from under our noses to pursue a dangerous criminal?"  
   
As Gibbs was about to reply that Tony would make a damned good agent, Jenny called out, "Uh, Agent Franks, we have Mr. DiNozzo's phone on the monitor. It's on the move."  
   
DiNozzo accused, "You, Gibbs, you were supposed to protect my son! What kind of agent are you to let a teenager get the better of you?"  
   
"Enough, DiNozzo," said Mike Franks sharply, pulling his jacket back to reveal a hunting knife in a sheath on his belt. "Enough, unless you want me to cut out your tongue, which I'm sorely tempted to do right about now. Fornell, can you take care of him?"  
   
Fornell hustled Tony's father back into the kitchen with a warning not to interfere, and posted Agent Connelly at the door with orders to shoot Senior if he tried to emerge again.  
   
Gibbs, guilt mounting at DiNozzo's words because he had sworn to take care of Tony at all costs, positioned himself behind Jenny and squinted at the blips on her computer screen. "Which light is DiNozzo's phone?" 

At that moment, Pacci hurried into the suite, slightly out of breath. He spotted Franks and said, "Hey Boss. Just got off the phone. Okay, the limo is registered to one Veritas Holdings out of Connecticut, which belongs to Senator Kingston Harding. The regular driver says he was given the night off. He also says that Harding never drives the limo himself but his aide, Briggs, sometimes acts as his chauffeur, usually nights and weekends and Briggs always brings the car back on Monday morning fresh and spanking clean."  
   
"Breathe, Pacci," ordered Franks. "Yeah, I'll bet Briggs chauffeurs his boss around whenever they kidnap a sailor, and also when they get rid of the body."  
   
Gibbs asked Pacci, "Did Tony get in that vehicle of his own accord?"  
   
"There was man I identified as Senator Harding with his hand on Tony's arm, urging him to get in," said Pacci. "I couldn’t definitively say he was forcing Tony though."  
   
Jenny looked over her shoulder at Gibbs then indicated one of the blips on her screen, which was moving at a steady pace alongside another cell phone being tracked. "DiNozzo's phone is here, traveling north. The other dot, the yellow one? That's Briggs' cell phone. It was turned off for a while and was activated about ten minutes ago. Looks like they're in the same vehicle. It's moving slowly; must be heavy traffic."  
   
Gibbs peered at the screen, and pointed to Senator Harding's DC home on the phone-tracking map. "This is his place in town, near Rock Creek Park, just past the embassies." It was north of where the limo was currently located, and it would take them a good forty minutes to get there, if that's where they were headed.  
   
Pacci was also checking out the map on the computer screen. "The senator's other property is due west – his twelve-million-dollar lakefront estate out in Falls Church."  
   
Gibbs knew all about both of Harding's houses. "The mansion near Rock Creek is big but there isn't much privacy. Close to the neighbors." Still, it was an expansive house that had once been an embassy, and it had a full basement.  
   
Franks joined in, saying, "He's gonna head outta town, I'll bet."  
   
Pacci said, "But Boss, the house in town fits the bill. Why risk taking the victim on a long trek when everything he needs is right here in the city?" He caught Gibbs glaring at him for referring to Tony as a victim, and said, "Sorry, Gibbs."  
   
Senator Harding's other house, the Falls Church estate, encompassed twenty acres on lakefront property. Built in the 1800s, it was both expansive and secluded. According to the plans they'd obtained, there was a basement consisting of a dozen rooms, once used as servants' quarters, and Gibbs would bet that the walls were thick down there.  
   
Burley added, "I found out that Senator Harding keeps a staff of three at the house in DC. Not exactly easy to hide a kidnapped man out of sight for a few days when you have full-time servants."  
   
Gibbs said, "Our intel says Harding has one live-in housekeeper at the lake house."  
   
Looking at his notes, Burley said, "The housekeeper is a middle-aged woman who lives on the grounds, not in the main house. She hires extra staff as needed from an agency."  
   
"Nobody is around long enough to get nosy," Franks said. 

Gibbs pointed out, "Harding was in the Navy. He keeps a boat moored at his lakefront estate. He chooses young men from the Marines and Navy to keep and torture for days at a time. Both Soto and Brownlee were disposed of in the river. This guy likes water, and that mansion has more than thirty rooms to hide whatever the hell he's doing from curious eyes, plus there's a bunch of outbuildings – guest cottages, a pool house, stables and a detached garage. I say he's going to head west on the bridge," Gibbs said decisively.

Franks said, "Pacci, head back to the Navy Yard and pick up a couple of agents and head out to the Rock Creek house. I want you to toss it, rafters to basement. You've gotta sit on your hands until the warrant is written, though. You got that?"

Pacci nodded and grinned as he headed out the door, looking like a kid who'd been given a plum assignment.

While Franks was telling Jenny to keep an eye on the phone signals, and to speak up the minute the limo passed the bridge, or turned onto it and drove west in the direction of Falls Church, Gibbs said to Esposito, "Let's hear the rest of the tape."  
   
Agent Esposito said, "There were a few minutes of nothing but traffic sounds. I think Tony was waiting on the curb. This is from when the limo pulled up."  
   
***  
   
A car pulled up in front of the hotel, and the engine settled into park. "Showtime," Tony said.  
   
When Tony's voice emanated from the speaker, Gibbs pictured him standing there nonchalantly in his white dress shirt with too many buttons undone, exposing his smooth, tanned chest, and his hands stuffed into the pockets of his trousers. A lock of his carefully styled hair would be hanging over his forehead, and he'd be licking his lips, the only outward sign he was nervous.  
   
In a barely audible whisper, Tony said, "If you're listening, Gibbs, and I know you are: I'm not sorry. About anything."  
   
There was a mechanical whine; the window of the limo lowering smoothly. Nothing for a long beat and then a laugh and, "My, my, looks like Anthony has finally come to his senses and decided to hand you over, after all."  
   
The hairs rose on the back of Gibbs' neck. That voice belonged to Sir, to the handsome, confident man he'd once met at the Pentagon while on a case, back when the man had been introduced as Senator Harding. Gibbs could just see him, blond hair gone gray at the temples, a well practiced smile, cool gray eyes that had assessed him without seeming too judgmental. He reminded Gibbs of the kind of men you'd meet at the country club, confident in the knowledge that they were the movers and shakers on the Hill, powerful but just the same, good old boys who truly cared about the people they represented.

But that wasn't who Tony saw. This Harding was the kind of man you dare not disobey; he was forceful and brutal. This was the man who had terrorized a 14-year-old boy, had demanded the child fight back all the while he held him down and raped him.  
   
Gibbs could hear rapid breathing and knew that it was coming from Tony. He must be scared out of his wits, coming face-to-face with the man who'd hurt him so badly. Sounded close to panicking. C'mon, Tony, just back away. Don't get in the car. C'mon, you can do it. Take a step back. Go over to the doorman, to Mr. Carlton. He'll take care of you until I get there and–  
   
"I've been waiting a long time for you, Junior."  
   
"I…I don't think I…"  
   
A car door opened. Shit, Harding was getting out of the limo.  
   
Gibbs found himself saying, under his breath, "Get the hell out of there, Tony. Move, move!"  
   
Tony made a startled sound and Harding spoke, so close that Gibbs jumped. "I have been very patient, Junior, for your father's sake. But now you will come with me," he commanded. Gibbs guessed that Harding was looking around to ensure he hadn't been recognized. "You," Harding said in a low, rumbling voice that expressed his need. "You are now mine, Junior."  
   
"It's Tony," said Tony in a small voice. Then, louder, he asserted, "My name is Tony, not Junior, Senator Harding. I'm Tony DiNozzo and I don't want to go with you–" Tony gasped and let out a cry of pain, and Gibbs had to bite his bottom lip to prevent himself from crying out in response, tasting blood. He had to remember that this had already occurred and there was nothing he could do about it.  
   
Fornell spoke, grounding Gibbs and bringing him back to the present. "He said that for our benefit, Agent Gibbs."  
   
"What?" He was shaken by hearing the sound of Tony's voice so clearly, knowing he was in trouble, in the hands of that monster, and for knowing he had failed him. Even if Tony had chosen to meet the senator on his own, and had made a bad choice, it was still Gibbs' responsibility to keep him safe.  
   
Fornell said firmly, trying to get through to Gibbs, "Tony – he distinctly said he did not want to go with Senator Harding."  
   
"Yup," Franks said, exhibiting a wolfish smile. "This means we now have Harding on kidnapping charges. Right, Agent Fornell?"  
   
Fornell agreed. "If a kidnapping is suspected, the FBI doesn't have to wait for any warrant. Let's gear up and get after them. We have a surveillance van ready to go. Esposito, Greene, we're transferring to the van. Gibbs, you coming with us?"  
   
***  
   
Ten minutes later Gibbs was ensconced in the FBI's rolling surveillance van, with Esposito driving, and Greene, Fornell and himself in the back. They'd left Agent Connelly guarding DiNozzo Sr., back at the hotel.  
   
Special Agent Franks and his two young agents were in a company car, having transferred their cell phone tracking equipment to the back seat, hooked up to a power pack in the trunk. Burley grinned. "Good thing I was a Boy Scout," he said when Jenny said she was impressed with the setup.  
   
As soon as Gibbs took a seat in the back of the large van, he got Agent Greene's attention and asked, "What are you hearing?"  
   
The FBI agent said, "Tony is sitting on the seat opposite Senator Harding. Just before you came in, the kid was talking but there hasn't been any dialog for a couple of minutes. There's some background noise but I can't make out what it is." He held a spare headset out for Gibbs to listen to the live feed coming from Senator Harding's limousine.  
   
Gibbs asked, "What did he say?"  
   
Greene shrugged. "Harding was going on about how happy he was that Tony was finally his, gave him something to drink from the bar. Tony mouthed off a bit and the senator laughed."  
   
Gibbs smiled at Tony talking back to Harding, even though it was dangerous to rock the boat. He concentrated on the audio. He could hear the limo's engine, and something that may have been clothing rustling, something rhythmical, heavy breathing, and then there was a faint grunt. For a moment he thought he'd imagined it, but when he held his breath Gibbs heard it again, and then it was repeated, louder. There was a series of vocalizations from two sources and one of them evolved into moans that rose in pitch and volume, and a man's voice cried out, "Oh, oh, oh God, yes! That's it, that's…" The sound of heavy breathing came clearly over the audio, escalating until there came a shout that couldn’t be mistaken for anything but a man reaching an intense orgasm.  
   
As the FBI's van turned north, pursuing the limousine carrying Senator Harding and Tony DiNozzo, Gibbs sat in front of a wall of surveillance equipment, staring at nothing, horrified even though he'd half-expected this to happen. He could clearly see his boy, his Tony, on his knees in the limo, and hear him panting as he recovered from giving a blowjob to the man who had once raped him.  
   
***end chapter 40***


	41. The Chase

Jenny kept in contact with Gibbs by cell phone, from the NCIS sedan. She strained to be heard over the screeching of car tires, nearly shouting, "We're just catching up to the limo. Okay, we have it in sight; we're a block behind." She sighed with relief. "The boss has pulled over and we're still alive."  
   
Gibbs could hear Mike Franks in the background asking, "What's the matter, Shepard? Got a problem with my driving?"  
   
"Oh no, it's fine, sir," was Jenny's sarcastic response. "Especially with the stench of burning rubber and your Mexican cigarettes making everything smell just peachy back here. Remind me to requisition some barf bags as soon as we get back." To Gibbs she said, all business, "The signals from both phones are still active, and they're coming from that limo. It's parked outside Valducci's Restaurant, engine still running."  
   
Gibbs was listening to Jenny, holding his mobile phone to one ear while he kept tabs on the live audio transmitting from the microphone inside the limousine. The FBI surveillance van he was in was hanging back a bit so they were about two blocks behind the NCIS car. They were still a little distance from the turn-off to the bridge, and apparently Senator Harding had arranged to make a pit stop along the way. Fornell started to speak to Gibbs, but Gibbs curtly shook his head as indication he had to wait because Tony was speaking.  
   
Tony's speech, from the sound of things, was slightly slurred. "Why're we stoppin'? Oh, I love Italian. Can we get some take-out? I'm hungry."  
   
Not liking the sound of what he was hearing, Gibbs turned to Agent Greene, who was seated next to him in the back of the van, and asked abruptly, "Did you say Harding gave Tony something to drink?"  
   
"Uh yeah. Right after Tony got into the car, Harding offered Tony some champagne and the kid refused. Harding kept pushing and in the end Tony accepted a bottle of water." Gibbs swore under his breath and Greene asked, "Shoot, did Harding spike the water?"  
   
Gibbs ran a hand over his face and disclosed, "Our forensics man said the bodies we recovered had traces of Rohypnol."  
   
"Damn." Greene said, "Guess that shouldn't be a surprise with this case and the kidnappings. You can inject liquid R2 a into a sealed bottle above the water line and it won't be noticeable."  
   
Harding had probably prepped an unopened bottle of water with the hypnotic drug and Tony had believed the bottle was safe to drink from. Tony wouldn't be able to protect himself while under the drug's influence, but all Gibbs could do was hope that he hadn't ingested much of the adulterated water.  
   
Gibbs turned his attention to the audio when Harding chuckled and said to Tony, "I'll feed you later if you're good. Right now you're going to sit there like a good boy, because my colleague is going to join us any minute and I want him to see how pretty you are. No, don't cover up your chest. Leave your shirt open." There was a sound of clothing rustling and Harding said, "Oh yeah, your skin is soft, just like a girl's." Through the speaker in the FBI van came the sound of a struggle, which was immediately followed by a strangled cry of pain. Harding said in an amused voice that held a warning, "I like it that you're feisty but save it for when we get home. You're going to need all of your energy for the next few days so don't waste it."  
   
There was some ragged breathing but it soon evened out. Gibbs knew it was coming from Tony, and it killed him to hear Tony being abused and not to be able to do anything about it.  
   
With his cell phone still against his ear, Gibbs turned to Fornell and told him what was going on, and asked if they could rig a direct link to Agent Shepard's phone so he didn't have to relay second-hand information. Fornell had Greene set it up so that Jenny's voice would be broadcast over a speaker in the surveillance van. And, instead of using his cell phone to speak into, a desktop microphone was made available. Greene also patched through the audio coming from Tony's hidden microphone to the agents in the NCIS sedan so they could also hear what was going on in the limo.  
   
"Wait a minute," Jenny said from the NCIS car. "We have a visual. Someone's getting out…it's the driver."  
   
Burley said, "That's Harding's assistant, Briggs."  
   
Jenny said to Gibbs, "Briggs is standing there. Looks like he's waiting for someone coming out of the restaurant."  
   
Harding spoke from inside the limo, and although his voice was a little indistinct, his anticipation was evident. "Good, here comes my friend."  
   
Jenny reported, "Briggs is opening the rear passenger door on the curbside. A male in his fifties is approaching and…Hey, Burley, get the binocs and get a positive ID on the new guy." She sounded excited and a moment later Gibbs understood why.  
   
Burley said loudly to Mike Franks, "Boss, it's Alonzo Torres! They stopped to pick up Torres and he is now getting into Senator Harding's limousine."  
   
There was a bark of a laugh from Franks. "Looks like the rodeo is about to begin for real. 'Bout time. Shepard, ask Gibbs about Tony's status."  
   
Gibbs talked into the microphone and informed his boss, "Tony may have ingested some Rohypnol but he's still in the game."  
   
Obviously concerned, Fornell asked quietly, "But how long will he last with both Senator Harding and Alonzo Torres in such close quarters? I'd rather be tossed into the lion's den at the zoo before feeding time."  
   
Gibbs said firmly, "Don't you worry, Tony'll do his part." He didn't say aloud how concerned he was or how his stomach was clenched in a hard knot, but from the tense vibes he was receiving loud and clear from the three FBI agents in the van, he knew he wasn't alone.  
   
***  
   
The limousine pulled smoothly away from the restaurant, and the NCIS sedan followed. So long as they received the signals from Briggs' and Tony's phones, they could keep their distance. Franks was one of the best at trailing suspects by vehicle, so Gibbs was confident the NCIS car wouldn’t be spotted.  
   
The FBI surveillance van followed the NCIS car, and both were able to easily pick up the audio coming from the limousine. Gibbs glanced out the window and saw that they were a few minutes away from the bridge and soon they'd know which house Harding was heading towards. The NCIS team's car would pull ahead at that point and the FBI's vehicle would bring up the rear.  
   
Right from the start, Director Morrow had said they needed to keep the op as small, and as quiet, as possible. SecNav didn't want anyone to get wind of the fact that they were trying to pin capital crimes on a U. S. senator; they needed to obtain solid evidence of his illegal dealings with DiNozzo and the mob. Gibbs was well aware that there would be no agency backup, no local LEO support, no choppers keeping an eye on the action from above. No, the two teams of FBI and NCIS agents following the senator's limousine were in this on their own, and Tony's safety was dependent upon them backing him up.  
   
***  
   
In a deep, gravelly voice, Alonzo Torres asked warily, "Who the hell is this?"  
   
Senator Harding laughed, as if amused by the question. "You don't recognize this young man, Alonzo? I understand he once dated your daughter." There was a scuffle and some small noises of protest, and Harding said harshly, "Stay at my feet where you belong. Behave or I'll you'll wear a gag as well as those leather cuffs."  
   
Torres said tentatively, "This is…Anthony's kid? Junior?" After a couple of seconds he gave a short laugh. "Didn't recognize him. Been a little while and he looks sorta different. Huh. You goin' queer on me, Harding? This kid is your pussy now?"  
   
It seemed that Torres didn't approve of the senator's latest conquest being in the limo with them, or perhaps Torres had a pretty good idea of what Harding was planning on doing to the young man. In any case, it sounded like the New York mobster was uncomfortable with Tony's presence.  
   
Harding said defensively, "I am not a homosexual, Alonzo. I do, however, prefer a bit of fight from my sexual partners, and women seem so…so weak."  
   
"I don't give a shit if you like boys, Harding. What I don't like is that while I've been bustin' my butt trying' to get DiNozzo to arrange a meeting between all three of us, you just happen to end up with Junior here, all trussed up at your feet and DiNozzo is nowhere to be–"  
   
"My name is Tony," Tony interrupted. He spoke slowly and clearly, as if it was a great effort to get the words out. "It's Tony, Mr. Torres, and if I'm the pussy, what does that make Senator Harding? A big dick?" Tony laughed as if he was amused by his own words. To Gibbs, Tony sounded under the influence of whatever Harding had given him to drink, but he still held out hope that the kid was putting on an act.  
   
Gibbs wished he'd had time to listen to the first early portions of the recording he'd missed. He knew that Harding had given Tony a doctored drink, and the senator must have discovered the chastity device; he'd have searched Tony, for sure, as soon as he'd entered the limo. Also, Harding had somehow coerced Tony to give him a blowjob, or maybe Tony had thought that acting acquiescent would keep him in Sir's good graces. Evidently Tony was no longer playing the submissive.  
   
Gibbs said under his breath, almost as a prayer, "Hope you know what you're doing, Tony. Just don't piss them off."  
   
Fornell must have overheard him because he said, with a shake of his head, "Not much hope of that, is there?"  
   
Harding's voice was loud, so Gibbs knew he was leaning close to Tony when he said, with a dangerous edge to his voice, "You're going to find out exactly how big my dick is as soon as we get to my place, Junior, and I am _so_ looking forward to teaching you what your father, and that military school, apparently failed to drill into you. I am really going to enjoy breaking you down." Harding threatened, "As soon as we get home I'm going to cut that belt off you, and I'm going to have you bowing to my command in no time at all."  
   
Tony said in a slightly high voice, as if he was in pain, "My master locked the belt on me to keep crazy fucks like you out, _Sir_." Gibbs tensed and, as he'd expected, there came the sound of someone enduring intense pain. It was agonizing to sit there and listen to it, but after a short time the cries stopped and all Gibbs could hear was panting. He wiped his forehead and swore.  
   
Harding said, "At least your father always understood that I'm the one in charge, that I'm the master. You'd better be a fast learner, Junior, or else we're going to have some serious conflict going on here."  
   
Gibbs realized that Harding misunderstood Tony's reference to his master, and thought the young man was talking about his father. Of course Harding wouldn’t have any idea that Gibbs was the one who was holding the key to that belt.  
   
"I'm not…I'm not…my father," Tony struggled to say in between short, harsh breaths.  
   
Gibbs found he was breathing hard, too. He barely managed to rein in the intense hatred and anger that threatened to overwhelm him from listening to Tony being hurt by that murdering bastard. Gibbs could feel Fornell looking at him, worried, and that was enough to give Gibbs that extra push to regain his composure. Luckily Fornell didn't ask any stupid questions and they went back to monitoring the audio.  
   
The next time Harding spoke, his voice was further away; the senator had settled back into his seat. Harding said, in a businesslike manner as if Tony didn't even exist, "So Alonzo, let's cut to the chase here. We don't have a lot of time and I'm anxious to break in my new toy." Someone whimpered in pain and laughter, presumably from Harding, could be heard.  
   
Torres said with begrudging appreciation, "Looks like he'll be eating out of your palm in no time at all."  
   
"He already is, Alonzo," said Harding with a smile in his voice. "All right, let's get down to business."  
   
"You sure we should talk in front of…" Torres was obviously uncomfortable talking openly in front of Tony.  
   
Annoyed, Harding said, "For God's sake, Alonzo, this car is clean; Briggs swept it for bugs before I set foot in it. And Junior there? Don't worry about him. He won't be talking once I'm done with him."  
   
"He's not wired?" Torres asked, only partially mollified.  
   
"No, I checked," Harding said dismissively. "First of all I need your assurance that these donations are going to be from squeaky clean sources. I don't make deals unless all facets are ironed out first, such as the amount of campaign funding you can guarantee. I don't like surprises, understand?"  
   
Torres discussed some business with Senator Harding, citing the way he planned on moving his funds safely through a network of business partners into the hands of trusted individuals, and how they in turn would be able to make clean donations to Senator Harding's campaign for President. In return Torres wanted the Harding to use his influence to prevent the U.S. from giving millions in support to the Colombian government. That aid would be spent to close down the pipeline that Torres' drug trafficking business relied upon.  
   
Every word that came out of Torres' mouth, and Harding's responses, incriminated them both. Gibbs could see by the avid expression on Fornell's face that he was getting enough to bring Torres up on some serious charges. But Gibbs was only interested in getting Harding for serial kidnapping and murder. For that he needed to catch the senator with his latest victim, Petty Officer Kovaks, and because the young man had disappeared only the night before, there was a good chance that he'd still be alive.  
   
At one point during his discussion with Torres, there came the sound of a zipper and Harding said, "Suck me off again, Junior."  
   
Torres made a sound in the back of his throat, and a moment later he protested, "Can't that wait?"  
   
There was a tearing sound and Tony, sounding drunk, protested, "Hey, that's my Cavalli shirt! Ouch! My nipples are very sensitive, y'know."  
   
Ignoring both Torres' request to stop, and Tony's complaints as well, Harding said, "I want to see all of you, Junior. Let me see your thighs. And you'd better get used to being without any clothing."  
   
There was a scratchy sound over the speaker and the agents in the van stiffened. Harding must be touching the waistband of Tony's pants and he'd discover the wire any moment. If that happened, the two teams would have to cut the limo off and force them to pull over. Pursuing a vehicle and forcing it to pull over came with serious risks for all those involved, which was why they would only use that tactic if absolutely necessary. Greene quickly assured Gibbs, "The wire and mic are sewn in by a tailor, Agent Gibbs. He won't find it."  
   
Torres demanded, "What the hell's that thing he's wearing?"  
   
"That is a chastity belt," explained Harding.  
   
"What's he got that thing on for?" Torres asked in a tone that left no doubt he was repulsed.  
   
"It appears," Harding said contemptuously, "that our dear friend and colleague, Anthony DiNozzo Senior, doesn't trust me with his son. He knows how much I've wanted this boy and it looks like he doesn't want me to have him, even though he handed him over."  
   
Tony spoke up. "You don' pay, you don' fuck," he recited.  
   
"Only I have paid, and dearly, as has Mr. Torres," Harding said, his voice deepening as his anger rose to the surface. "You see, I found out only a couple of hours ago that my dear Anthony has double-crossed me, double-crossed us."  
   
"What the hell you talkin' about?" demanded Torres nervously.  
   
"DiNozzo sold out the freighter's location to the Peruvians in exchange for a cool three million. Isn't that right, Junior?"  
   
Torres yelled, "He what?"  
   
"Why do you think he isn't here with us now, as was planned? I'll just bet Anthony is making a run for his jet right about now. Planning on heading to the Caymans to live high on the hog, courtesy of the millions he's stolen from us."  
   
Torres barked, "The fucker! How the hell d'you know this, Harding?"  
   
"Because I'm not an idiot. I figured it out, Alonzo, and if you had half a brain you'd have realized that Anthony was the only one of us who was in a position to make such a deal. He took our three million for arranging the shipment of guns, plus he took a large payment handed out by the Peruvians so they could bear arms against your people."  
   
Torres growled, "I am so gonna fucking kill the bastard. And why aren't you goin' after him right now?"  
   
"I thought he was joining us tonight but instead, what do I find standing outside his hotel? Junior. I'll get him though, don't you worry," Harding promised. To Tony he said, "I thought I told you to suck me, boy. You won't like it if I lose my patience."  
   
Apparently Tony wasn't following Harding's orders because he laughed derisively and said, "Dad got three million from you assholes and another four from that guy from Peru, and he's getting a cut from the sale of the freighter as well."  
   
Tony suddenly grunted and Gibbs knew that one of the men in the car had grabbed hold of him. It must have been Torres because he shouted at Tony, "Where's that fucking bastard? Where is he?"  
   
Tony spat back, "You wanna know? You two fuck-ups are supposed to be so good at wheelin' and dealin', how about we barter a little?" Tony laughed humorlessly and said, "It's gonna cost you, though."  
   
"Is he worth dying for?" Harding asked, raising his voice. "Why would Anthony go against me? He's never dared to do anything like this before!"  
   
"It's worth it," Tony retorted. "It's worth it jus' to see the look on your faces when you found out he took the two of you to the fucking cleaners! My dad beat the both of you at your own game, and you're gonna rot in jail 'cause right now he's telling the FBI every fucking thing about you. And he's gonna get away with it, gonna get a ticket out of here, no strings attached and he's gonna live like a prince off your money. And the both of you are gonna fall!  How'd you like them apples? 'He finally got to the top of the world...and it blew right up in his face.' Edmond O'Brien said that in 'White Heat.'"  
   
There was the sound of a blow and something – someone – fell heavily, bringing Gibbs to the edge of his seat, his heart in his mouth. Just then Jenny's voice came over the speaker, saying, "Damn, both of the signal have dropped out!" There was some rapid discussion with Burley and Jenny confirmed Gibbs' worst fears when she announced, "We lost both phone signals and the limo's out of sight."  
   
*** end chapter 41 ***


	42. The Bridge

"How the hell did they lose both cell signals?" demanded Gibbs. He could hear Franks saying they would catch up with the limousine but a minute later the NCIS sedan, and the FBI's van that was now only a short distance behind, were caught in a snarl of traffic within sight of the bridge. Jenny, who was in the back seat with Burley and all of their tracking equipment, was urgently asking Franks if he could see if the limo had taken the bridge or not. Gibbs heard his boss say he couldn't see past the other vehicles; Franks swore as he laid his hand on the horn.

"Gibbs, there's some night construction work going on up there, just before the entrance to the bridge," reported Jenny, her voice brittle as it came over the speaker. "The cell signals aren't showing up - monitor."

Burley, his voice cutting in and out, said, "- interference - radio transmissions - construction site ahead. The signals - online as soon as we're past -."

Who knew how long it would take to actually get past the construction area because the traffic was, at present, barely crawling, and there was a long line of vehicles ahead of them. Gibbs peered out the front windshield of the FBI van at the road ahead. Bright lights shone all around the construction area and a large crew of workers was busy excavating half the road from the looks of things. There was a mountain of dirt and torn-up asphalt to one side, and several pieces of heavy equipment were moving back and forth, blocking Gibbs' view of the entrance of the bridge, as well as of the road beyond. Concerned that the limo, somewhere ahead of them, was going to get past the construction while their vehicles were still stuck in the jam, Gibbs spoke into the microphone and asked, "Do you have a line of sight on the limo, Shepard?"

After a pause, and a lot of crackling from the cell phone transmission, Jenny responded, her voice suddenly clear, "No, but the limo was only a block ahead of us. They'll be stuck in this mess, too."

Esposito was doing his best to merge the large van in between a couple of slow-moving cars, and by changing lanes a couple of times they gained some ground. Gibbs spotted the NCIS car ahead but he couldn't see the limousine because of a large truck in the way.

The audio from the limousine crackled with static. There was no discernable sound of anyone talking, and Gibbs knew that their contact with Tony was tenuous at best. "Greene, get the damned audio back," Gibbs snapped, even though there was little the FBI agent could do in light of the interference. Gibbs had been on edge ever since they'd heard one of the men strike Tony; there hadn't been so much as a murmur from him for several minutes. Harding might have found the hidden microphone, or discovered Tony's cell phone – wherever Tony had hidden it – and finding the devices would mean a certain death sentence for the young man.

Greene fiddled with a dial and said he was boosting the reception, and they were all relieved when Torres' voice could be heard once again.

"You had to bring DiNozzo's kid with you? I don't like him being here," Torres said critically.

"I was expecting to pick up Anthony at the Excelsior, not his son, but I wasn't about to leave him standing on the curb," Harding explained. "Don't you worry, I'll catch up with him later on."

Torres didn't sound at all appeased. "You think the kid's telling it straight? About DiNozzo spilling everything he knows to the FBI? He wouldn't have missed this meeting by choice."

"The only way DiNozzo would talk to the feds would be if they used thumbscrews on him," Harding said. "I know him, and he hates the FBI as much as you do, Alonzo. He's probably giving them the runaround as we speak. DiNozzo has as much to cover up as we do, if not more. You still have that piss-ant FBI agent snapping at your heels? What's his name?"

"Fornell," growled Torres.

"He's just another small potatoes Feeb who's running around chasing his tail," Harding said dismissively. "He's a nothing."

"You wouldn't call Fornell a nothing if he was camping on your doorstep and going through your garbage at 5 a.m., looking for evidence," retorted Torres, his voice rising in anger. "He's been following my every move for months now. Hell, every time I turn around I practically trip over the guy, and even my wife knows him by sight. Just this morning she wanted to know why it is that she sees Fornell around the place more than her own husband," he complained bitterly. "Fornell's jamming me up and I'm losing money 'cause I have to be so damned careful all the time."

Gibbs glanced at Tobias Fornell and saw a satisfied smirk on his face. Fornell smiled broadly and said, "Hey, you gotta love it when you get under their skin."

Gibbs agreed, "Means you're hitting a sore spot," and returned to listening to the conversation coming from the limo.

Harding was talking about Fornell being expendable and Alonzo replied, "Yeah, well, I'm taking enough heat for the last two agents I whacked, Harding! And now DiNozzo's out there somewhere yakking it up with the feds? You think I need this crap? There's always one more joker out there causing trouble. Goddamn it, I'm getting an ulcer."

The FBI agents in the surveillance van were grinning, exultant that Harding and Torres were hanging themselves with their own words. Gibbs had always doubted that Harding or Torres would say anything damning in DiNozzo's hotel room, and apparently they felt a lot freer about talking openly when on the move in the senator's limo. Now all they needed was to gain entrance to Senator Harding's estate and catch him with his hands on the latest kidnap victim. There was always the chance that Harding was keeping the petty officer somewhere off his property but Gibbs had a strong feeling that Harding was the kind of serial killer who liked to keep his victims close to home, especially as he tortured them for days before suffocating them to death.

Harding said to Torres, "Anthony has as much to lose as anyone. No way is he about to tell tales, especially after selling our shipload of heavy arms to the Peruvians. He's into this as deep as we are," he pointed out. "Too bad for him – he won't live long enough to spend any of his fortune once I get my hands on him."

"Why'd he send you his kid?" asked Torres.

"Some sort of goodwill gesture," Harding said, sounding a little doubtful. "Anthony's been holding out on me for the past four years, wouldn't give up his son even though he uses him like a whore. I should have just taken Junior, back when I first had him."

There was a groan and Gibbs was sure that it had come from Tony. He took a deep breath, relieved that at least Tony was still breathing.

Harding was taunting, "Remember that, boy? Such a sweet piece of ass you had. I'll bet your dad doesn't have a clue that I know that he pulled a double-cross on me and Alonzo. How would you like it if I let Alonzo take care of your father? I'm sure he'll be more than happy to cut out your father's eyes and feed them to him. Maybe we can arrange for you to watch. You like the sound of that, Junior?"

"Go to hell," Tony mumbled, but Harding just laughed.

"Believe me," said Torres. "When I catch that fucker DiNozzo, I'm gonna cut out more than just his eyes." After a moment he asked, "How're we going to get him if he's in custody? 'Cause I'm not sticking my neck out with the FBI sniffin' around."

"I have friends in high places," assured Harding. "The FBI is sure to stash Anthony in a safe house tonight but it'll only take one phone call for me to get the location. Then you can deal with him because I'll be busy with this little one," he added with a chuckle.

"You're only letting Alonzo here kill my dad 'cause you're a wuss," Tony said, his words sounding a little slow. Gibbs wondered if it was from the drugged water Tony had consumed or because of being hurt by the older men in the limo. "You can't get your dick up," Tony sneered, "unless you have some poor sailor tied down. You have to strangle 'em to get 'em to submit. Well it ain't gonna work with me because I'll never–" Tony's words were cut off and Gibbs could make out a wheezing sound – Tony trying to get some air into his lungs while Harding's hands were wrapped around his throat.

There was a choking noise and then coughing and Torres was yelling at Harding, telling him he was crazy, and to let him out of the damned car. They'd do business later, when this crap was settled with DiNozzo, Torres said. A couple of minutes later there came the sound of a car door slamming, and the engine grew louder when the limo pulled out into the slow-moving traffic again.

Fornell was talking to Agent Esposito, looking out the windows as they tried to figure out where Torres had gone. Past the brilliant lights of the construction they could just make out a man's figure crossing the lanes of slow-moving traffic then walking along a side street. "He's heading over there, to that bar," Fornell said.

Fornell reached for the door handle and was giving Esposito instructions but Gibbs grabbed the lead agent's arm. "No! Call someone else to follow him," Gibbs ordered. "I need both of our teams to stay with that limo and to take Harding down." Fornell seemed to hesitate so Gibbs said between gritted teeth, "We're the only thing that's gonna be able to keep Tony from getting killed, Fornell. I need you and your men to see this thing through." He was practically begging with his eyes, and could tell the moment that Fornell made up his mind to stay.

The FBI agent pulled out his cell phone and called his superior, urgently requesting a team to get on Alonzo Torres' tail, giving the location in which he was last seen. Apparently Fornell's boss was giving him a hard time about not following his suspect himself, but Fornell managed to make it clear that the services of he and his men were needed elsewhere before he hung up. He took a deep breath and said, "Let's get this show on the road, men."

The surveillance van was moving forward slowly, too slowly by far. There were occasional murmurs and sounds, no more than moans, from Tony. Harding had told his driver, Briggs, to hurry up and get them home.

Needing to do something – anything – Gibbs suddenly rose from his seat in the back and maneuvered so he crouched behind Agent Esposito, who was in the driver's seat. Peering through the front windshield over the agent's shoulder, Gibbs watched some of the cars ahead begin to move, but they were still crawling. "How far ahead is the limo?" Darkness had long since fallen but there was plenty of illumination from the construction lights to be able to identify the make of the vehicles on the road ahead of them, and there was no sign of the limo.

Esposito glanced back at Gibbs. "Before that pickup moved into our lane, I thought I saw the limo at the head of the line." Dozens of vehicles were waiting ahead of them, inching forward, and due to the heavy construction equipment it was impossible to see beyond the work area. Esposito said, "There's no way of telling which way he's going, Agent Gibbs. We're running blind here."

Greene reported from the back of the van, "Still no signal from either Briggs' or Tony's cell phones."

"If we don't get a visual, it'll be a 50/50 call which road they take at the junction, Gibbs," said Fornell. "I say if we don't get a confirmation we should go to Harding's house by the park."

The traffic started to move forward slowly – too slowly for Gibbs. He spoke into the microphone. "Franks? Any chance of getting a helicopter to spot the limo's location?"

Franks replied, "Burley already checked that out, Gunny. No traffic copters in this area this time of night, and it'd take too long for any flyboys to get airborne in time to spot the limo."

Gibbs tapped Agent Esposito's back and ordered sharply, "Stop the van." Without even waiting for Esposito to hit the brakes, Gibbs slid open the side door and jumped out onto the road. Fornell was yelling at him, asking what the hell he was up to, but Gibbs ignored the FBI agent and ran alongside the slow-moving vehicles. He passed the NCIS car and caught a flash of Franks' surprised expression, but he wasn't about to stop to tell his boss what he was doing. Franks would get the picture soon enough.

His feet pounding on the road, Gibbs darted between two cars, paying no heed to the horns blaring at him. He was at the head of the construction area, running past couple of workers in hardhats, both of whom shouted at him, when he saw it ahead of him, at the front of the line – Senator Harding's limousine. Breathing hard, Gibbs quickly ducked behind a truck in the next lane and moved alongside it as it crept forward, all the time keeping an eye on the limo. The windows were tinted but he could just about make out the silhouette of one man seated in back. It was frustrating, knowing how close he was to Tony, wishing he could reach out, open the door and just drag Tony to safety.

The flagman at the head of the holdup motioned for the vehicles at the front of the line to proceed and the limo accelerated as if was a racehorse breaking out of the starting gate. Gibbs thought it was going to surge straight ahead, on its way to the senator's mansion near Rock Creek Park, but instead it turned left and took the bridge.

The NCIS sedan drove past Gibbs when he was on his way back to the surveillance van. Jenny rolled down her window and called out to him, "The cell phone signal's coming in again." Gibbs raised his hand and kept going, but Jenny shouted, "Hey Gibbs! Where the heck did Tony hide that cell phone?"

Gibbs was a little out of breath when he jumped into the FBI van and took his seat once again. "They took the bridge. Heading out to Falls Church."

Fornell sent him a look that was half 'you're crazy' and half 'good move.' Esposito was grinning and Greene simply handed Gibbs a bottle of water and said, "I didn't doctor it," with a smile, so Gibbs figured he'd wasn't going to get tossed out of the moving van for taking the initiative.

"Any sound from Tony?" Gibbs asked worriedly.

"I can hear him breathing," Greene assured him. "Couple of…uh…sort of moans, too," he added apologetically.

It was Fornell who asked the same question Jenny had posed. "So where the hell _did_ Tony hide his cell phone?"

Gibbs took a swig of water, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and said with a shrug, "I'd guess he broke the phone down and stuck the part that transmits the signal down there." He indicated below his belt.

"Uhuh. Tell you what, Gibbs," Fornell said. "When we catch up with him, you can have the honors of retrieving it."

Gibbs said, "Be my pleasure, after I kill that bastard Harding."

*** end chapter 42 ***


	43. The Dead Zone

The two federal vehicles turned their headlights off and drove slowly by the iron gates that barred the entrance to Senator Harding's lakeside estate. They pulled up a little further down the road, close to the eight-foot-high stone wall that protected the senator's home from inquisitive eyes. Special Agent Franks got out of the car, quietly opened the trunk of the NCIS sedan, and handed a Kevlar vest to Shepard when she joined him.  
   
When he looked around to see why Stan Burley wasn't on his six, Jenny said, "Burley's still working on getting the cell phones back on track."  
   
"Tell him he's got two minutes to get his ass over to the van," Franks ordered. He strapped on his own vest and then took one over to Gibbs, who was conferring with Fornell and his two FBI agents next to their darkened surveillance van. "Just got a call from Director Morrow," Franks informed the men. "It looks like the judge came through with the warrants. 'Bout damned time."  
   
As Gibbs donned his bulletproof vest he asked Franks, "You taking the lead, Boss?" He'd prefer to have a seasoned Vietnam veteran like Mike Franks leading a search and destroy op like this, where the goal was to mount a rescue and take out the enemy, over an FBI suit like Fornell.  
   
Franks immediately asserted, "Damn right I am." He turned to Fornell and said firmly, "In return we'll help you boys run down Torres as soon as we have this part of the op tied up. The warrant covers top-to-bottom searches of all buildings and the grounds."  
   
That was good news, thought Gibbs, even though he had been prepared to go in after Tony, whether or not they obtained an official warrant. "Getting Tony out safely is a priority, as well as the petty officer," he reminded Fornell.  
   
Confronted with two determined NCIS agents, Fornell was smart enough to agree. "Just so long as I catch Alonzo Torres and get to take him back to New York in handcuffs, you can arrest the whole of Capitol Hill."  
   
"Nah, I've got only one fat-assed senator in my sights," Gibbs replied, keeping his voice low.  
   
Franks made a quick check to ensure that all of the agents were properly geared up. Agent Greene fitted the NCIS agents with headsets and set them so that Gibbs, Franks and Fornell would be the only ones to receive the audio from Tony's hidden microphone. Gibbs knew from experience that it took a lot of concentration to listen to surveillance audio while doing a building search, sort of like patting your head and rubbing your stomach at the same time, only infinitely more dangerous. You had to pay strict attention to what was going on around you. From now on it would be safer if only the senior, and more experienced, members of their team heard whatever went on between Tony and Senator Harding.  
   
As soon as Burley joined them, he took a headset, hooked up his earpiece to the receiver attached to his vest and said in frustration, "Briggs' and Tony's cell phone signals went dead a few minutes ago, Boss."  
   
Franks grunted with displeasure and asked, "Where was the last fix you had on them?"  
   
"Well, the availability of the signal relies on the network architecture…" Burley launched into technical stuff that made Gibbs want to scream. "…and even though I tried boosting the reception I couldn’t get the signals back. We appear to be in a dead zone and–"  
   
His impatience getting the better of him, Gibbs ground out, "Just give us the last location you had, Burley, or the words 'dead zone' will take on a whole new meaning for you."  
   
"Oh, yeah. Sorry. They were somewhere inside the house, but I can't be more precise. The phones might have been turned off, or it could be interference, or–"  
   
"Or they went underground," Franks finished off. After making sure that everyone was ready to go, Franks gave the joint team some last-minute instructions. "As far as we know Briggs isn't violent but if anyone runs into him, you take him down quietly and get him the hell out of there. Keep him secure; we don't want to alert Harding. Remember that there are at least two hostages in there. Let's go."  
   
The senior NCIS agent led the way to the large locked gate, sticking close to the deep shadows alongside the high stone wall, the agents following him in single file. It was dark away from the city, but through the heavy iron gates the mansion was visible, with lights shining in several ground floor windows. It was a sprawling place that dated from the 1800s, built on the highest knoll of land in the area, commanding a view of the long lake. Senator Harding's limousine was parked in plain sight outside the front door, but there was no sign of activity. The only sound was from the wind off the lake, whispering through the bare branches of the big old trees that stood like sentinels along the length of the driveway.  
   
Gibbs moved past the other agents and picked the lock on the massive gates. It wasn't difficult and once it was unlocked he pushed the gate open just enough for one man at a time to enter. Greene was the first to slip inside. Using a hand-held device he verified that there weren't any motion detectors at the drive's entrance before signaling it was safe to proceed onto Senator Harding's property.  
   
Mike Franks directed the federal agents to split up into teams. "Fornell, you take your men and search the outbuildings, from the east side down to the lake." He indicated a small house half-hidden behind the mansion that had some lights on. "Housekeeper's cottage. Don't scare the woman but make sure she doesn't raise the alarm. My people will do a sweep of the house and once it's clear we'll search the basement."  
   
Ever since Greene had patched the audio from Tony's wire through to their headsets there hadn't been much of anything to hear, but when a voice came over the com Gibbs adjusted his earpiece and concentrated on it. The voice seemed distant but he could tell it was Harding giving orders, sounding sharp and displeased. Gibbs tried not to think about how scared Tony must be, drugged and bound by leather cuffs, being held by a madman who killed young men for sport. God, how he wished he had some way of talking to Tony, even if it was to assure him they were close and that he'd soon be safe.  
   
Franks had been listening in, too. He double-checked with Gibbs, "You hear Tony say anything?"  
   
Gibbs shook his head. "Not since the limo arrived here, and Harding roused him and took him inside."  
   
***  
   
The surveillance van had been hanging back so they hadn't actually seen where Harding had taken Tony, or if Briggs had accompanied them. A car's headlights would stick out a mile in this quiet neighborhood of exclusive properties and the two vehicles had not dared to follow the limo too closely. Luckily there hadn't been any private security guarding the entrance to the lakeside development, and the neighbors were far enough apart that they weren't likely to notice the federal agents mounting a search of the senator's estate.  
   
It had sounded like Harding had coerced Tony to drink some more water right before they arrived. Tony had protested, and he'd sounded so weak that Gibbs had become anxious. Tony had complained when Harding had forced him inside but then Tony had started chattering away, Apparently he'd been doing his best to antagonize his captor even though he was under the influence of the Rohypnol, and Gibbs had taken heart.  
   
"That was my favorite shirt," Tony had said, "and I expect an apology, and for you to buy me a new one. Guess you're gonna be my sugar Daddy now, huh? Think you're up to it? I've been told I'm really demanding and I'm not really comfortable with this calling you Sir shit, ya know?" Tony's tone had changed to being excited. "Oh wow, is that a McLaren F1? Are these all yours? Hey, ya know what this reminds me of? 'Sabrina,' when Audrey Hepburn falls in love with the Larabee brothers. Well, she falls for William Holden first and then with Bogie, which I gotta tell you is one of the worst casting choices in a classic film. You know the movie? She lived in a place just like this, only up instead of down, and down is where are we goin' because–"  
   
Harding had told Tony to be silent, and whatever he had done next to the young man must have hurt him because Gibbs had heard Tony's sharp intake of breath. After that there had only been some footsteps and other sounds of movement, doors opening and closing, but no conversation.  
   
***  
   
It wasn't clear exactly where Harding had taken Tony, and although the mansion was a rambling old place with a lot of rooms to search, Gibbs' gut told him that Tony had been forced down to the basement, or into a soundproofed room. The senator would have somewhere secure where he could take his victims, where their cries could not be heard when he tortured, raped and murdered them. Gibbs shook his head to clear it of the horrible visions that threatened to make him veer off his designated course. He had to be strong, remain focused on his target. Deep breaths. Put everything else aside. Tony was counting on him.  
   
Despite the darkness of the night, Gibbs could make out the sparkle of water in the distance beyond the house. He knew from the plans he'd studied earlier that there was a pool and pool house as well as a sizeable boathouse with a dock down on the lake. At this time of year there would be no boats on the water, but Senator Harding owned a large cruiser as well as a smaller motorboat; they'd either be in storage for the winter or in the boathouse.  
   
Just as they were about to make their way across the lawn, Fornell stiffened and pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. He swore softly and said in a low voice to Mike Franks, "Wait," then retreated into the deepest of shadows near the stone wall. Just as Gibbs was getting antsy, the FBI agent rejoined them. Even in the dark Gibbs could make out that Fornell was fuming.  
   
"That was my boss. The FBI agents who went to the hotel to relieve Agent Connelly found him unconscious."  
   
The first thing that sprang to Gibbs' mind was that Torres had gone after DiNozzo Sr. to kill him and the young agent they'd left on guard got in the way. Gibbs asked tersely, "Is DiNozzo dead?"  
   
"He's missing," Fornell said grimly. "Maybe Torres took him. Maybe not."  
   
Franks did some swearing under his breath then asked, "Your man's okay?"  
   
"Yeah." Fornell ran a hand through his hair then whispered furiously, "I don't think it was Torres. If it had been him, he would have killed my agent outright. He doesn't leave loose ends. My boss figures DiNozzo put Agent Connelly out of commission and made a run for it. He put out a BOLO on him and sent FBI agents to stake out DiNozzo's jet at the airport."  
   
Even though Gibbs could picture DiNozzo Sr. turning tail and flying off to Dubai or whatever country was willing to take him in, somehow he didn't believe that Senior was on his way to the airport. Something told him that the man was up to something else entirely, but Gibbs wasn't sure what that might be. Senior might be heading here to interfere in their operation, thinking he could take Tony away with him, or maybe he aimed to warn his former lover, Senator Harding, that the feds were after him. Gibbs glanced up to discover that Franks was staring at him with a look in his dark eyes that told Gibbs he wasn't alone in his suspicions. Gibbs admitted aloud, "Got a bad feeling, Boss."  
   
"Likewise. Let's damn well get a move on," Franks said. "Nothing we can do about DiNozzo right now." He gave the signal and the NCIS and FBI agents ran across the lawn towards the mansion, keeping low, weapons drawn. They then split up, with Fornell and his two men heading around the house to check out the outbuildings. Franks led his NCIS team swiftly and silently to the side of the house, and located a security panel affixed to the wall near a side door, just as their intel had indicated.  
   
Burley pulled some tools from his utility belt and had Jenny hold a small pinpoint flashlight for him while he efficiently rerouted some of the wires. Within a few minutes Burley gave a thumbs up. The team soon infiltrated Senator Harding's house through the side door and began to check out the ground floor rooms, weapons at the ready.  
   
***  
   
The agents searched the ground floor thoroughly with Special Agent Franks leading – living room, library, game room with pool table, a large formal dining room and several smaller rooms. Although some of the rooms had lights on, there was nobody about. Franks indicated with hand signals that he and Jenny were heading upstairs to search the upper floors, and that Gibbs should do a sweep of the back of the house. Gibbs led Burley along a dark hallway, checking out every room, closet and door that they passed, careful to be silent. The house was huge and seemed more like a lived-in museum than a home, it was so full of antique furniture and paintings. Gibbs knew from the information they had on the place that there were two floors above them, with a dozen rooms on each level, and even though he knew that Franks and Shepard were upstairs, the house felt deserted.  
   
In a passage beyond an enormous kitchen that looked as though it was never used, Gibbs found a sturdy door underneath a back staircase and cautiously opened it. A set of stairs lead down to a musty smelling basement and from somewhere below emanated a faint light. Gibbs made a hand motion to Burley to indicate he was heading down. Burley pointed up, but Gibbs didn't want to wait for Franks and Jenny to finish their sweep of all those upper rooms. "Now," Gibbs mouthed. Just as he was about to take the first step down, the audio feed from Tony's wire suddenly came alive, as if someone had flipped a switch. Gibbs stopped in his tracks and raised a fist to instruct Burley, who was close behind him, to halt.  
   
"You listen and you listen good, Junior," Harding was saying, sounding exasperated. "You're mine now and there's no way you're going to get away. I've been waiting a long, long time for this, and believe me, I'm going to savor every moment I have with you. Your father was a fool for keeping you away from me, but now I'm going to show you what you've been missing, what you're capable of when someone shows you the way."  
   
"You're one fucked up piece of work, you know that? You make me sick," Tony retorted groggily. "You're nothin'. Nothing! You jus' wait. Gibbs is gonna show you what _he's_ cap'ble of and then you'll see."  
   
Harding continued as if he hadn't heard a word that Tony said. "I am going to show you a whole new world, and when you see the light you'll understand–"  
   
"Just leave me 'lone! I wan' Gibbs," Tony mumbled, then called out, "Gibbs!"  
   
"Nobody is coming to your rescue, Junior. There's no way out of this. It's just you and me now. Hey, look at me when I'm talking to you," Harding ordered. "Look at me! You will call me Sir from now on. You hear me, Junior?"  
   
Tony laughed and said, "You're wrong, wrong at the top of your voice! You're so fucked an' you don' even know it. When Gibbs is finished with you I'm gonna be laughing over your dead body–"  
   
There were sounds of a scuffle and then a surprised shout of pain followed by swearing and ragged breathing. Gibbs instinctively knew that that cry of pain had not come from Tony, and a moment later there was some yelling and the sound of a blow. Then a groan and Harding said in a tight, pained voice, "Now look what you've made me do."  
   
Gibbs was more afraid for Tony than he'd been the entire time the young man had been in Harding's possession when Harding promised, "By the time I'm done with you, you're going to wish you hadn't done that."  
   
*** end chapter 43 ***


	44. Cold Waters

Weapons drawn, and ready for trouble, Gibbs and Burley methodically checked out every room in the basement of Harding's mansion. They found a warren of passageways that led to servants' quarters that looked as though they hadn't been occupied since the Great Depression, and several storage and utility rooms. What they did _not_ find was the secret retreat where Senator Harding took his victims, nor anything that gave a clue as to where he had gone to ground.

All the time they were searching the basement, Gibbs was listening in on the audio being transmitted from Tony's wire. He heard a lot of movement and an occasional snippet of talk, mostly Harding giving directions to someone, but when they were halfway through their search the really bad stuff started. Gibbs froze in his tracks, overwhelmed by the horror that he was hearing, and Burley halted by his side, on guard but casting worried looks at Gibbs. At first there was a sharp cry of pain, followed by more cries and then a long, drawn-out scream that sounded like an animal being slaughtered, followed by muffled pleas and sobs.

"Gibbs. Gibbs."

Startled, Gibbs jerked away from the hand on his arm, only to find that it was Burley.

"You okay?" Burley whispered.

Gibbs swallowed the bile in the back of his throat and signaled that they should continue on. "Let's get this done," he managed to say even as whimpers and small cries for mercy filled his ears. Concentrating on the search for Harding's lair, while listening to the sounds of Tony being tortured, was one of the hardest things Gibbs had ever experienced. Although Gibbs' pulse was hammering away, and he cringed internally at every cry of pain that came through his headset, he forced himself to keep moving. The knowledge that Tony depended upon them to locate him – and soon – spurred Gibbs on. Every second of delay meant one more second of agony for Tony, one more stab of pain that tore deep into Gibbs' heart.

Gibbs' gut told him that they were on the wrong track before they'd inspected even half of the underground rooms but the two NCIS agents performed a thorough search anyway. Frustrated at finding nothing, and so tense that his shoulders and neck ached fiercely, Gibbs hastened back upstairs with Burley the moment they were finished. Using the headset's communication device, Gibbs quietly reported to his boss that they were on their way up. They met Franks and Shepard in the kitchen and it was evident, even without saying anything, that neither party had found any sign of their quarry.

The team left the house as stealthily as they had entered it. Franks led the way to a secluded area at the side of the house where they had a good view of the extensive grounds that sloped down to the shoreline, once their eyes adjusted to the dark night. Gibbs shivered when the wind blew in off the lake, rustling the dried leaves underfoot. His step faltered when a muffled scream came through his earpiece.

Franks' hand was on his shoulder, steadying him. "Well find the bastard," Franks muttered angrily. "He's so damned close I can smell him."

"We're running out of time." Gibbs couldn't keep the impatience out of his voice. "Harding isn't going to keep Tony for days like he did the others. He's gonna…damn it!"

"Hang on there, Gunny. Let's see what Fornell has found out before we jump outta the plane without a parachute," Franks said. He used his com to talk briefly with Fornell and shortly afterwards the three-man FBI team approached from the back of the house and joined them to compare notes.

Keeping his voice low, Fornell reported that the housekeeper was asleep and they'd disconnected her phone without waking her up, just in case she figured out that something was amiss and tried to contact Senator Harding. There was no sign of anyone else around and they'd searched every building on the estate. "We could go back and wake up the housekeeper," said Fornell, without much expectation. "We can see if she knows where the senator does his dirty business."

It was Jenny who said what they all thought. "I can't believe she'd work here if she had any idea what her boss was up to."

While Mike Franks talked to Fornell about their next move, Gibbs stepped to the side and listened intently to the audio coming through his earpiece, hoping for some clue as to where Harding had taken Tony. The grunts and heavy breathing from Harding working himself up to a sexual climax obliterated whatever Fornell was saying and suddenly there was an immense pressure behind Gibbs' eyes and a vision grew and commandeered his sight.

He was transported back to when he was fucking Tony in his truck, hidden under the sweeping overhang of the pine trees in the back of the drive-in parking lot, thrusting so hard into Tony's pliant body that the whole truck was rocking. He could literally feel the way Tony's entire body reacted to him, how his muscles trembled and clenched, and the pale, smooth skin of Tony's ass blushed in reaction to his every caress. Gibbs could taste him now, the salt of the sweat trickling down Tony's neck. He licked the length of Tony's spine and behind his ear, where he discovered a trace of something sweet and aromatic – that coffee suntan lotion with the foreign name that made Gibbs' dick ache every time he caught a whiff of it – and he ran his tongue across that spot and Tony moaned and came.

Gibbs ran a hand over his face and groaned, shaken by the intensity of the flashback, and then realized that Fornell was looking at him strangely, as was Jenny. Gibbs wondered if he'd said something aloud that he'd come to regret. He glared at them and turned away, unwilling, _unable_ to explain.

Knowing that Tony was somewhere close and was being horribly abused, and not being able to do anything about it, was killing Gibbs. Damn, he had to keep a lid on the sense of desperation and anger that had been building ever since Tony had run off. He was incredibly pissed at Tony for taking matters into his own hands and for doing such a stupid, _stupid_ , dangerous and _brave_ thing, and he was pissed at himself, too, because he knew better than to allow feelings to prevail over the job at hand. He'd been trained to focus, to keep his mind clear of emotions whether in the height of battle or when he was involved in an interrogation. It wasn't as if he was a rookie, he'd been in more war zones that he cared to remember. It shouldn't be this difficult to separate his feelings from the job at hand. It damned well shouldn't.

Gibbs listened to Fornell talking in an undertone to Franks about getting hold of a chopper with a heat-detection device so they could determine if there was a hidden bunker somewhere on the estate. "They have to be here," Gibbs said harshly, cutting in. "We haven't looked hard enough. We're missing something here." Even to his own ears, he sounded close to the edge.

Fornell's features were strained because he, too, was getting an earful of Harding assaulting his victim. "We'll check every damned building out again, Gibbs. I'll call in that chopper and get some more men."

Franks exchanged a look with Gibbs. SecNav had ordered them not to call in any backup in order to keep the alleged crimes quiet until they knew what they were facing. They had to keep it quiet, handle this on their own. Except the FBI didn't have to abide by the Secretary of the Navy's rules. Franks rubbed his chin and said to Fornell, "Guess if you call in the troops there ain't much I can do about it. Nothing to do with me."

Through his headset, Gibbs heard Tony pleading weakly, "No, no, don't…please, Sir!" Clenching his jaw to prevent himself from screaming aloud, Gibbs tried to focus, to think about where Harding might have taken Tony. Grasping at straws, he remembered that Tony had said something to Harding when they'd arrived at the estate. Walking back and forth, Gibbs tried to bring back what Tony had said.

Think, think, something about a car – a McLaren, and Tony was talking about a movie. Hell, Tony was always talking about movies; everything circled back to movies. Okay, cars, he'd mentioned a McLaren F1. Expensive car. An old movie. Gibbs had seen it a long time ago. How did it go? Wealthy brothers. William Holden, Bogart, and that skinny girl with the dark eyebrows, Audrey Hepburn. Gibbs raised a finger and blurted, "'Sabrina.'"

Fornell asked, "Who?"

"Tony said Sabrina, that Sabrina 'lived up instead of down,'" Gibbs said insistently. It was important, he knew.

Jenny Shepard looked at Gibbs as if he was crazy. "'Sabrina' is a movie, Gibbs."

"I _know_ it's a movie," he barked. "Where did she live in the movie?"

Burley said tentatively, not wanting to get his head bitten off, "Sabrina was the chauffeur's daughter. They lived over the–"

"Over the garage," Gibbs and Jenny said at the same time.

Just beyond the limousine was a garage attached to the house. Gibbs pointed his flashlight through the glass panel of its side door. All he could see was an SUV and the bumper of another car beyond it. "Is there a McLaren F1 in there?" He tried the handle but it was locked so he pulled out his lock-picking kit.

Fornell said, "We already looked in there, Gibbs. There's an SUV and a town car. The garage is built on a slab. There's no upstairs and no basement; nothing underneath it."

"Here, Gibbs." Greene came forward and held a large ring of keys aloft. "We borrowed the housekeeper's keys. They're all marked. Alarms are still off, right, Burley?"

Burley assured him they were all deactivated. Gibbs grabbed the keys and opened the door, and Fornell followed him into the garage. "What I'm trying to tell you is that Harding uses that building over there as a showcase for his specialty cars."

Trying to tune out the sounds of Harding's grunts and moans still being broadcast through Tony's wire, Gibbs made an about face and ran to the building that Fornell indicated. It was set back from the main house, and from the looks of it, it was an old stable block renovated into a multi-car garage. The lock on the big set of sliding doors at the front was new and suggested that the owner kept something valuable inside. Gibbs found the right key on the ring and was about to insert it into the lock when a light went on inside the building and he heard the sound of footsteps from within, coming closer.

He motioned to the other agents to retreat, and they quickly melted into the shadows. A moment later a man emerged from a side door of the garage. Even with light emanating from the open door it was too dark to make out the man's identity, but the man hadn't taken two steps before Franks and Greene grabbed him and brought him down swiftly and efficiently, muffling his surprised protest. They dragged the man away from the stables and shone a flashlight on his face.

"Meet Steven J. Briggs," Burley said, identifying the man who Tony had once described as being a second-tier executive, gray hair, mid-fifties. This was Senator Harding's aide, the man who had given Seaman Carl Jacobs a spiked drink late last summer in New York City, making it easy for his boss to rape and murder the young man.

Pushing aside the two agents who immobilized Harding's assistant, Gibbs roughly grabbed a handful of the man's hair and demanded, "Just tell me where the _hell_ is Tony?"

Gibbs took the lead, making his way around the half-dozen expensive cars parked in the garage – including the McLaren F1 that Tony had admired earlier, on his way past it – and carefully opened a hidden door. Just as Briggs had revealed to them when he'd spilled the beans, there was a staircase leading down to a basement under the old stables. Gibbs quickly went down the stairs and along a corridor with Franks following close behind him, and with Shepard and Burley watching their backs.

The FBI agents had taken Briggs into custody and were currently extracting information from him about Senator Harding and the senator's involvement with Alonzo Torres. Gibbs didn't give a shit about Briggs or Torres, or that it soon became apparent that FBI Agent Esposito had no qualms about breaking a suspect's fingers in order to get him to cough up the information they wanted. He even came prepared with duct tape to stifle the suspect's screams.

Right now Gibbs had only one objective, and that was to reach Tony before he had to spend one more second in that madman's clutches.

As Gibbs approached a heavy door at the end of the passageway he could hear the same sounds that were coming through the feed in his earpiece, only now they were live, though muffled by the subterranean room's soundproofing. Gibbs didn't waste any time bothering with a key; he kicked the door in and, with gun drawn and his team backing him up, he burst into the room, yelling, "NCIS! Federal agents!"

In a split second Gibbs took in the scene: on the far side of the dimly lit, large room, a gray-haired man – Senator Kingston Harding – was raping a young man who was tied face down over a bench. It looked as though the senator had been in a hurry to get down to business because he still wore his shirt and tie, and his trousers were around his ankles.

The room was full of a variety of large pieces of equipment that Gibbs couldn't readily identify, but he had a pretty good idea as to what their purpose was. The walls bore racks of whips and lengths of leather, masks and clothing made of rubber; there was an open closet with shelves spilling over with an assortment of sex tools and devices.

When the NCIS agents advanced, Senator Harding's head snapped up and he stared at the intruders with a shocked look on his blood-streaked face. His hips hesitated and then halted their thrusting motion but he didn't withdraw from his victim, who was hooded and strapped face down over a large padded bench, and bore signs he'd been whipped. A wide collar encircled the neck of the man Harding was violating and a leather leash attached to that collar was wrapped around his right hand. In his other hand the senator held a riding crop, dark and wet with blood.

Although the federal agents were advancing on him with weapons drawn, yelling at him to give it up, to step away, Harding pulled back on the leash, forcing his victim's head up. There were some terrible choking sounds, and as Gibbs moved closer he saw that the hood was a heavy black plastic bag without any openings. It inflated and deflated with every shallow, rapid breath that the young man made and it was clear he – Tony – was being suffocated. From the extreme pallor of his skin and his blue extremities it was obvious he wasn't far from death. His back was covered in whip marks, many of them openly bleeding, and the floor around the bench was slick with blood.

Gibbs forced the black anger that threatened to consume him down and ordered Harding to get away from Tony. Franks was doing the same but Harding paid no heed to the authoritative demands of the armed agents.

Harding's eyes darted back and forth between the two lead agents as they approached, working their way around some of the large pieces of equipment as they tried to flank him. Harding jerked his hips back and withdrew from his victim's body, his cock dark red and slick and half erect despite the dangerous situation he was in. Moving around to the far side of the bench, keeping it between him and the men who threatened him, Harding dropped the leash and the bloodstained riding crop in order to pull up his pants. Gibbs moved closer but Harding snatched up the leash once again, clutching it as if it was a lifeline.

With one hand pressing against Tony's wounded back, the senator said in an affronted tone, "This is my property! Do you know who I am? How dare you enter my sacred place?" Sweating, Harding wiped his face with his shirtsleeve, leaving a smear of blood across his cheek.

At first Gibbs thought that the blood had come from Tony, but then he saw that Harding's cheek was swollen and bloody, and that it bore the unmistakable indentations of someone's teeth. Tony had bitten the motherfucker's face, Gibbs thought with a jolt of pride. He'd fought back, that was for sure, but at what cost? Harding, angered, had said he would take it out on Tony, and apparently he'd lost no time.

"Step away from him, Harding," Franks ordered. "Now! You got one second and then I'm gonna open fire on you, and believe me, I am ready and willing."

The senator yanked on the leash and replied, his face flushed with anger, "This one is mine! I will never give him up! It is my God-given right to do whatever the hell I want to do with him, to show him the light. Now get the hell out of my house!" The bound man was gasping and choking, his chest heaving and it was obvious that he was only seconds away from suffocating to death, and having Harding keeping the leash taut wasn't helping matters any.

Gibbs circled to the left, around a large wooden structure in the shape of an X that was bolted to the floor, while Franks approached from the right, keeping Harding's attention by talking him into giving up. Gibbs sensed the younger agents were about ten feet behind him, weapons trained on the senator, and he trusted them to provide both he and Franks with cover when they made their move.

Franks' finger tightened on the trigger and he shouted one last warning. Harding dropped the leash but instead of heeding the notice to back up and put his hands behind his head, he made a run for it. Franks took his shot but at the same moment Harding slipped in the slick blood pooled at his feet. The bullet caught Harding across the top of his shoulder and although he stumbled he kept on going.

With the deafening sound of the gunshot reverberating in his ears, Gibbs rushed to apprehend Harding, but had to navigate around a large apparatus the size of a pool table that resembled a Medieval rack. The fleeing man ducked behind another apparatus just as Gibbs took his shot, and Gibbs' bullet plowed through a cabinet behind where Harding's head had been only a second earlier. Instead of making straight for the door at the far end of the basement, Harding scrambled over a couch at the far end of the basement and came up with a gun in his hand and his forearm wrapped around the neck of a battered and barely conscious young man.

Earlier, Briggs had told them that Harding wasn't armed; Gibbs swore he was going to kill the bastard. The thought was fleeting because as Senator Harding rose to his feet, Gibbs saw the face of the youth that Harding held in his arms.

It was one of those moments when time seems to stand still, when sound is muffled and there is nobody in the world except you and your target and the air that hovers between you, taut as a violin string. He raises his eyes to meet yours. It is a split second of pure truth, an instant that blossoms with a rare kind of clarity, brilliant and terrible, the junction of life and death, the intimate moment when a sniper pulls the trigger and knows, even before his bullet reaches his target, that he has succeeded in killing a man.

That was how Gibbs felt when he realized the mistake he'd made: the victim that Harding had brutalized, raped, and suffocated – the young man who was tied to the bench behind Gibbs – was not Tony after all. He was the missing petty officer, Kovacs.

Gibbs knew this because the person that Senator Harding was holding to his chest, and using as a shield, was Tony.

*** end chapter 44 ***


	45. The Lake

Harding, wrapped one arm around Tony's bare chest, jammed his gun into the young man's ribs and shouted to the NCIS agents, "Stay back or I'll kill him!" Tony's head was lolling about, his chin touching his chest, and it was obvious that he was barely able to keep his legs from buckling and that his captor was bearing most of his weight. The senator abruptly hauled the young man upright and ordered sharply, "Stand up, Junior."

Tony did as he was told, and lifted his head as if it were a great effort; it was apparent that he was still under the influence of the drug that Harding had forced upon him earlier. Tony blinked heavily and after a beat his eyes opened wide as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing. "Gibbs," he croaked, and then, louder, "Gibbs!" Abruptly Tony came to life and twisted in an attempt to escape but Harding was a big man, and even with a gunshot wound to his shoulder, he was able to hang onto his captive.

Gibbs caught a glimpse of a pair of heavy leather cuffs linking Tony's wrists together behind his back, and he remembered he'd heard Harding threaten to gag Tony as well as cuff him when they were in the limo. Now Tony struggled against the cuffs, his movements uncoordinated but determined. He was marked with array of bruises and small wounds on his face, arms and chest, and a trail of blood ran down his neck from a gash just above his ear. The left side of his face was swollen and bruised, his eye half-closed where Harding had hit him with an open hand. None of Tony's injuries appeared to be life threatening but nonetheless Gibbs' anger rose at the sight of the abuse Tony had suffered.

Gibbs sidestepped to work his way around the bulky apparatus that stood between them, his gun aimed at Harding, looking for a chance to blow the man away. His target was still about fifteen feet away and ordinarily Gibbs could make the shot, but with Tony moving around in Harding's arms, and Harding doing his damned best to use Tony as a shield, the risk was too great.

Harding backed up, dragging Tony along with him, and a few steps later they were at a door at the rear of the basement dungeon. With his gun pressed against Tony's body as a warning to the NCIS agents to keep their distance, Harding said, "Back off or I'll hurt him!" Tony kept wriggling and making small sounds of frustration, but Harding hugged Tony to his body and Gibbs couldn't get in a shot.

"Put your weapon down, Harding! There's nowhere for you to run to," Gibbs ordered. "Let him go." Out of the corner of his eye, Gibbs could see Franks slowly advancing on Harding from his right.

"This boy is mine," Harding snarled, "and I'm nowhere near done with him yet." He fumbled awkwardly behind him for the door handle, using one hand, and managed to get the door open.

Gibbs could feel Tony looking at him expectantly, more alert than he had been a few minutes ago, but Gibbs never took his eyes off his target, waiting for a chance. "Put the weapon down and we'll talk," he said calmly, hoping to buy some more time. If Harding disappeared through that doorway and into the dark passageway that probably led outside, they could lose him in the dark.

As if he read Gibbs' mind, Harding stepped backwards into the shadows of the passage. "You shoot me and I'll still be able to take him with me," Harding promised, his eyes darting back and forth between Gibbs and Mike Franks.

"You'll never get the chance," Franks retorted, squinting as he took aim. "I like head shots." Without looking at Gibbs, Franks asked, "How 'bout, you, Agent Gibbs?"

"Not particular. I'll take a shot at any part of him that sticks out," Gibbs promised, following Harding step for step.

Harding adjusted his grip and pressed the barrel of his gun into Tony's cheek, causing Tony to wince. Harding sneered, "Now why is it that I get the feeling this is personal for you feds?"

"Damn right it's personal," Gibbs snapped back. "You've been killing our Navy boys."

"I've been _saving_ them," Harding explained fervently, not at all fazed that the NCIS agents knew about all the young men he'd murdered. "Showing them the way; making them see the light! They're capable of so much more." He shrugged dismissively, wincing slightly due to the wound on his shoulder, caused by Franks' bullet. "No, no, I think this is about Junior. You're here for _him_." Harding pressed the cold metal barrel harder into Tony's cheek. Tony made a grunt of protest and turned his face to the side but couldn't get away from the gun being shoved in his face.

Harding retreated another step into the passageway, his grip tight around Tony's chest, and asked Gibbs, "You want this one for yourself, don't you, Fed? Too bad because I'm not about to let him go." Harding narrowed his eyes as if trying to figure Gibbs out, and after a moment he exclaimed, "Wait! I know you. We met…we met at the Pentagon. You're _Gibbs_. I knew that name from somewhere. Junior mentioned you." He didn't seem to be very pleased that Tony had called out for Gibbs on more than one occasion, either.

"Yeah, I heard all about you, too, Senator Harding." Gibbs kept eye contact with Harding and said calmly, "I think this is the end of the line, Senator."

Harding shook his head in disbelief. "You can't admit it, can you? I can tell you want him, though. Pity, you'll never know just how sweet Junior tastes because I'm going to take him with me, make him mine. I think I'll keep this one for a while. Might have to cage him until he's trained though." Never taking his eyes off Gibbs, Harding swept his tongue across the back of Tony's ear where the blood from Tony's head wound had congealed, then licked his lips as if he'd tasted something delicious. Tony raised a shoulder in protest but Harding only smiled at the young man's reaction. "Mmm. He's matured a little since the last time I had him. I burst his cherry back then. Didn't I, Junior?" He tightened his grip, demanding a response from Tony. "Answer me."

Tony, whose gaze dropped to the floor, said in a small voice, "Yeah, I guess."

"Yes, what?"

Tony responded without emotion, "Yes, Sir."

"See? That wasn't so difficult." To Gibbs, Harding said, "All he needs is a little indoctrination. Anthony never understood how to bring out the best in his son."

Tony frowned at what he was hearing. "My dad doesn't know shit," he protested. "Lemme go!" He kicked back at the senator with a bare foot, but Harding only smiled with pleasure.

Gibbs moved slightly to one side but Harding countered by shifting his position and kept Tony in front of him. Franks moved closer but his angle was all wrong and Harding took another step back into the passageway until he was obscured in the shadows.

"This one will have some fight in him once the sedative has worn off," Harding said. "He reminds me of Anthony, when he was young."

"You need to let Tony go, Senator," Gibbs coerced, glad to see Harding lower his gun a little so the barrel was no longer pointed at Tony's face. "Let Tony go back to his father, to Anthony. Do the right thing. I'll just bet your lawyers can get you a reduced charge, maybe a diminished capacity plea. Spend some time in a country-club detention center instead of in the state tombs. Just let the boy go, Senator. Release him and slowly hand him over to me and–"

"No! Nobody… _nobody_ can touch him but me," Harding said explosively, his mood changing all of a sudden. He must have realized that both Gibbs and Franks were too close for comfort because he yelled, "Get the fuck back! Both of you!"

Mike Franks, by Gibbs' side, said in a calming voice, "Okay, okay, just take it easy. We don't want anyone hurt. How about you release Junior there and we can deal?"

Harding's eyes darkened and he said in a low, dangerous tone that almost sounded like a growl, "He's mine. I'm not finished with him yet."

Tony was breathing fast, obviously scared, but he raised his head and looked straight at Gibbs with defiance in his green eyes even though they were still dulled by the Rohypnol. "Gibbs?"

"I've got your six, Tony," Gibbs promised, taking his eyes off Harding for a moment. He hoped that Tony was getting the message that he'd get him out of this safely.

"Promise me…promise me you'll kill him," Tony said, sounding stronger.

"You have my word," Gibbs promised.

Harding said angrily, "You'll never get the chance," and Gibbs' eye contact with Tony was broken when Harding roughly hauled Tony along with him into the passageway. As the senator backed away, he swung his gun in Gibbs' direction and he pulled the trigger. The deafening sound of the gunshot resounded in the enclosed space and the area immediately became filled with the acrid smell of gunpowder.

Gibbs had thrown himself to one side as soon as he saw Harding take aim at him, and the bullet had missed him completely, but Mike Franks staggered and swore, clasping one hand to his thigh. Blood immediately welled between his fingers and flowed down his leg. Gibbs heard Tony scream his name, but before Gibbs could make it to the door, Harding slammed it shut and locked it from the other side.

A quick look across the room assured Gibbs that Shepard was taking care of Kovacs; she was on her cell phone talking to an emergency tech until the ambulance arrived. The petty officer had been untied and the hood removed from his head; he was lying face-up on the floor and Jenny was leaning over him, talking to him in a low tone. Gibbs was heartened to see the young man's chest was moving, and that a little color had returned to his pale skin. Burley was busy talking on his com to Fornell, stating they needed additional backup, giving him a quick sit-rep of what had just gone down, but he looked to Franks for further direction.

Gibbs quickly helped Mike Franks rig a makeshift bandage over the wound in his thigh. The bullet had plowed through the skin and although the furrow looked nasty it wasn't too deep. Gibbs pulled Franks' belt tight to keep a small hand towel in place while Franks gave Burley and Shepard orders to stay where they were until reinforcements arrived.

"What're you going to do, Boss?" Burley asked Franks.

"Gonna go and bag a senator, that's what I aim to do," came the determined reply.

Gibbs broke down the door Harding had slammed in their faces and he and Franks hurried down the dark, narrow passageway. At the end, they opened another door to find themselves outside in the cold, dark night, near the pool house.

Someone must have flipped a switch up at the mansion because the whole place was lit up like a Christmas tree, with spotlights illuminating the lawn that sloped down to where they stood at the water's edge. Gibbs spotted Harding making his way along the shoreline, moving pretty fast in the direction of the boathouse. The senator held Tony firmly in his grip, and it looked as though Tony was on his feet, stumbling alongside his captor, fighting him every step of the way.

Tony was taunting Harding with "Gibbs is so gonna beat you to a pulp when he catches up," coming in loud and clear over Gibbs' headset. That was a relief because a talking Tony was an alive-and-kicking Tony. Gibbs was also relieved because it struck him as he ran across the lawn that although Tony wasn't wearing any shirt or shoes, he still had his trousers on, and that meant that Harding hadn't taken the time to cut Tony out of the locked chastity belt.

Franks was limping heavily beside Gibbs as they quickly made their way along the path that followed the edge of the lake, and Gibbs slowed down to see if he could get his boss to take care of his gunshot leg. Franks wouldn't have any of it. "Go and get that boy. I'll be fine, just bringing up the rear," he groused.

Two dark figures came running across the lawn towards them from the direction of the house. Just a moment before Gibbs shot the men they identified themselves as Agents Fornell and Greene. Together the four men headed for the boathouse that extended over the waters of the lake but by the time they got to the large structure, Harding was already inside and had barricaded the heavy front doors.

Fornell demanded, "What the hell does he hope to achieve?"

"If he's planning on taking his boat out, he'll be lucky to get the engine to turn over," Gibbs replied, expecting that the boat had been prepped for winter storage with the electronics and fuel line disconnected. Lights turned on inside the boathouse, shining from a set of windows high above the large double doors. "I'll check this side for any access," he told Fornell.

With his weapon at the ready, Gibbs proceeded along a sturdy wooden dock that was built flush against the boathouse and extended about 70 feet over the water. It was dark out and damned cold and he could hear the water lapping at the pilings beneath the boards under his feet as he looked for any way in. There were no windows on this side of the boathouse, nor any way to gain entry. Gibbs peered around the corner of the building and when his eyes adjusted sufficiently, he made out a set of huge doors that opened to the water to allow any boats housed inside access to the lake. Even if Gibbs could get to the doors, which were inaccessible from the dock, there wasn't much likelihood that he'd be able to get them open.

Gibbs listened over his headset to Harding getting his boat ready, muttering about his wounded shoulder and ordering Tony, who was making unhelpful remarks, to shut his mouth. The senator was, no doubt, planning an escape across the lake, although what he expected to do when he got to the other side was the big question; most of the lakeside was residential, with a country club at the far end that at this time of year would be closed for the season. It wasn't as if the man could steal a car and disappear into the night to evade capture and prosecution, unless he hitched a ride on DiNozzo Sr.'s jet and was willing to live as a fugitive in a country that had no extradition policy. Harding was not reasoning things out, his actions those of a desperate man who knew that his freedom, and his life as he knew it, was over, and that made him all the more dangerous.

Gibbs heard Tony making an occasional derisive comment, sounding a bit like a belligerent drunk. "Got your ass in some seriously deep shit, haven't you? Gonna do a Thelma and Louise and run for Mexico? 'Cept I am _so_ not gonna be Thelma and drive off any old cliff with you…" Harding had stopped telling him to shut up so he was either getting used to Tony's smart mouth or he was turning a deaf ear because he was too busy. All the same, Gibbs wished that Tony would stop baiting the senator; it wasn't wise to aggravate a man on the edge who was holding a gun on you.

Gibbs made his way back to solid land at the front of the boathouse, to find Fornell was giving Agent Greene a boost up to access the high-set windows. Franks, his pants' leg soaked with blood, was trying to jimmy the large front doors with a piece of wood but so far he hadn't had any luck. He was barely putting any weight on his leg and Gibbs knew his boss was staying upright through sheer orneriness and that once the adrenaline rush was over he'd probably collapse.

From inside the boathouse came the sound of a large engine trying to turn over, and failing, several times. Just as Greene managed to get the window open, and climbed inside, the engine of Senator Harding's boat roared to life.

A loud rumbling noise emanated from the water side of the boathouse and Gibbs and Fornell ran along the dock, their feet pounding on the boards, just in time to see the big doors slowly opening up. The engine of the boat revved and it nosed out of its berth. From inside the boathouse, Agent Greene shouted for Harding to stop, to turn off the engine, and after a beat there came another warning from the FBI agent and then there was the loud crack of a gunshot, and another when Harding returned fire.

Gibbs ran past the boathouse, all the way to the end of the dock where he could get in a good position to take a shot. A 30-foot speedboat was slowly emerging from the boathouse, and when it was halfway out Gibbs could see that the senator was crouching behind the wheel, pinned down by Greene's shots at the same time he was trying to steer the boat through the open doorway. There was no sign of Tony and Gibbs prayed that it meant that Tony had the sense to keep low while they were under fire, and not because he'd been hit or dumped overboard.

The boat cleared the doors and Harding rose to steer it away from the boathouse, unwittingly exposing himself to Gibbs. Without giving any warning Gibbs aimed and took his shot. He saw the boat's windshield shatter and Senator Harding went down with a choked scream.

With nobody at the helm, the motorboat veered towards the dock and hit it broadside close to where Gibbs and Fornell were standing and the bump sent the whole dock rocking. The engine sputtered and died, and Gibbs leaped onto the bow with his gun in hand before the boat could drift away. Fornell grabbed a line and secured the boat to one of the pilings. In the moment it took to steady himself on the rocking boat, Gibbs saw that Tony was safe in the stern, crouching down awkwardly with his arms still cuffed behind his back.

Harding was lying on the deck, half under the helm, his chest bloody but even though Gibbs stood above him on the bow with his gun trained on the downed man, and warned, "Drop your weapon," Harding twisted and got off another shot. The bullet hit Gibbs high in the chest and he flew backwards off the boat and hit the dock hard. Gibbs felt the dock dip and for a moment his shoulders hung over the edge and he started to tip backwards into the lake. Suddenly a couple of strong hands grabbed him by the arm and hauled him to safety.

"Damn it, Gibbs," said Fornell, "This is no time to go swimming."

The pain in Gibbs' chest was crushing and he could barely draw a breath. Lying on the dock, wheezing and unable to move, his visions graying and with a rushing noise in his ears, he dimly heard Fornell saying something urgent to him. Gibbs blinked and swallowed heavily, and the stars above came back into focus, and he inhaled a good lungful of air despite the agony it caused. "Okay…it hit my vest," he managed to say.

Fornell helped him when he struggled to sit up, and Gibbs was vaguely aware that Stan Burley was running towards them along the dock.

Harding shot another round off, and the agents ducked for cover. Gibbs and Fornell were exposed, out in the open, so Fornell started to pull Gibbs along the dock to safety. "No," Gibbs gasped, fighting to remain on the dock, knowing that Senator Harding had to be stopped, and that Tony was still in danger so long as he was being held hostage.

Gibbs hunkered down behind a piling, which gave scant protection, and watched as Harding, who was covered in blood, rise and aim his gun at him. From his prone position, Gibbs somehow raised his gun with a shaky hand in order to return fire but all of a sudden Tony appeared right next to Harding, and yelled, "No!" Tony rammed into Harding, his shoulder driving into the older man's chest, and they both went overboard into the icy cold, black waters of the lake.

Gibbs divested himself of his NCIS field jacket, Kevlar vest, and his shoes, and was in the water in seconds flat. The frigid water was a tremendous shock to his body but he dove in the spot where he believed that Tony had gone under. It was pitch black underwater and Gibbs spread his arms wide and reached out blindly, desperately feeling around for Tony. He swam deeper, still finding nothing, and then, just as he was about to rise to the surface to take a lungful of air before he dove again, something soft wafted across one of his hands. Gibbs extended his arm and encountered hair, a head, and then the solid mass of a body and it only took a second for him to determine that he'd found Tony. Praying to God that he wasn't too late, Gibbs hooked one hand under Tony's still-cuffed arm and kicked hard, pulling Tony to the surface with him.

They burst out of the water, Gibbs gasping and spluttering. Lights high on the exterior of the boathouse went on, flooding the dock and the water around it. There were hands, people taking Tony from his arms, pulling him out of the water and laying his lifeless-looking body on the dock. Coughing, his chest aching, Gibbs clung to the edge of the dock and concentrated on Tony's still form until Burley joined Greene and Fornell, and together they pulled him out of the lake, too.

Gibbs collapsed on the dock next to Tony. "Get those damned cuffs off him," he croaked, and Burley produced a knife and cut the leather cuffs off Tony's wrists.

More men had arrived, both local cops and feds from the looks of things. Gibbs saw Esposito was dealing with them and he wondered briefly what the FBI agent had done with Harding's aide, Briggs, who was nowhere to be seen.

From the shouts Gibbs gathered that Harding was still in the water and they were organizing a search of the water. Let them waste their time looking for him; the man had drowned or he'd bled to death from his wounds and was now fish food at the bottom of the lake bed. As far as Gibbs was concerned, Harding could never suffer enough for all the pain he'd caused so many people, both his victims and their surviving relatives. If his bullet had been the cause of Harding's death, then so much the better.

Blankets appeared and were draped over Tony's body and Gibbs' shoulders. Shivering so hard he thought his teeth might break, Gibbs pulled himself close to Tony and laid a hand on his young lover's chest. His own hand was so cold and his brain so sluggish that it took a moment for it to register that Tony's chest was moving and that he was shivering and coughing. Fornell rolled Tony onto his side and supported him while Tony hacked miserably until he had expelled all the lake water that was likely to come up. When Tony was done he moaned, and Fornell laid the young man on his back again and pulled the blanket up to his neck.

In the glare of the floodlights, Tony's skin, marred with cuts and bruises, appeared to have a blue cast, and Gibbs' chest constricted with a sudden fear that Tony was suffocating. "He can't breathe," Gibbs said, his voice rough and insistent. Fornell calmed him down, saying the second ambulance was on its way, but Gibbs was close to panicking until Tony turned his head and opened his eyes.

Tony blinked a couple of times then focused and whispered in a croaking voice, "God, Jethro, you look terrible."

For a moment Gibbs sat there speechless but Tony gave him a smile, albeit a small one, and finally everything seemed as if it was going to be all right.

With a scared look in his eyes, Tony said, "You were shot…"

Mike Franks scoffed, "My men always wear vests, kid. Good thing, too, 'cause it's a pain in the butt to replace them."

Gibbs lowered his head, exhausted, all the emotions he'd been trying to hold back flooding to the surface. Tony reached out and ran a weak, unsteady hand across Gibbs' head and through his wet hair. Gibbs took Tony's hand and kissed the cold palm, breathing hot air against Tony's fingers, not caring that Fornell was watching with a smirk on his face.

"Tony," was all Gibbs said but from the way the corner of Tony's mouth quirked, Gibbs knew that Tony understood.

There was a lot of activity with cops calling for divers and a second FBI team arriving to handle the investigation of the scene, and in the midst of it all it Mike Franks suggested they get into the warmth of the house before they froze their asses off.

*** end chapter 45 ***


	46. Safekeeping

The senator's housekeeper, Mrs. Polanski, quickly and efficiently pulled back the covers of the queen-sized bed in the ground-floor guest bedroom. As soon as she had seen the state Tony was in, she insisted they should get him into the bed so he could warm up. "You can use this bedroom until the emergency people arrive," she had said briskly. Despite being awakened by the police then brought to the main house for questioning, the woman didn't appear to be too upset by the presence of the federal agents.

Greene and Fornell supported Tony between them and, slinging his bare arms around their necks, they guided him towards the bed. "I'm f-fine," Tony insisted, even though his chattering teeth and inability to stand told another story. His eyes were almost closed and he seemed to be asleep on his feet.

"I'll get more blankets," the housekeeper said, disappearing into a large walk-in closet just off the bedroom.

"You have hypothermia, Tony," Gibbs said sharply and set the control for the bed's electric blanket on high. He didn't want to spend a minute more than he had to in Senator Harding's house, but Tony needed somewhere to get warm while they waited for the EMTs to show up, and this was a far better solution than having Tony lie on one of Harding's fancy couches in the living room.

"'m fine," Tony mumbled, while his whole body shuddered as his system tried to counter the effects of the cold water.

The two FBI agents carefully laid the shivering young man on the bed and Fornell said, " _Sure_  you're fine, DiNozzo."

Gibbs replaced the damp blanket that was wrapped around Tony with a dry one the housekeeper handed to him. Tony's bare chest and arms, when exposed, seemed unnaturally pale in contrast to the purple bruises and small red marks - signs of Harding's cruelty - that marred his smooth skin. How different Tony appeared now, subdued and debilitated, as compared to the lithe, tanned, and coffee-scented youth who Gibbs had first encountered last summer by the DiNozzos' pool, up in Long Island. 

Right now Gibbs wished he could crawl into bed with Tony. He wanted to do nothing more than hold Tony close while they warmed each other up. They'd be like two ice cubes that would melt from friction when rubbed against each other.

Gibbs absently touched his own chest, just over his heart where his bulletproof vest had saved him from being killed by Harding's bullet. He hadn't looked under his shirt yet but he had a pretty good idea of how bad the bruising would be. Although the breath-stopping pain of the initial impact had receded, his upper chest hurt like a bitch and his left arm was still sort of numb. Past experience told Gibbs that the deep bruise from the blunt force would still be with him long after the ache faded away.

The new FBI team, who turned up quickly because Agent Esposito called for backup as soon as he heard the gunshots from his position at the FBI surveillance van, was currently handling the investigation. They had taken Gibbs' Sig, along with the other agents' weapons that had been discharged. The lead agent of 'Team B,' as Fornell called them, had given Gibbs a sharp look when he'd bagged Gibbs' vest as evidence, and had said meaningfully, "Better get yourself checked out, Special Agent. And get inside the house until the EMTs get here." The hole in the fabric of Gibbs' Kevlar vest may have been small but the dent in the armor beneath was sizeable. Although he was not what one might call a religious man, Gibbs had taken a moment to give thanks when it sunk in how close he'd come to being killed.

Gibbs stood in the middle of the guest bedroom, shivering, even with a heavy blanket around his shoulders. He was frozen to the core, with his wet clothing clinging unpleasantly to his skin but he wasn't about to change into dry clothes until after Tony had been taken care of by the paramedics. At present Gibbs was concerned about Tony, whose speech was slurred, and his movements slow and uncoordinated. Those symptoms could be due to mild hypothermia, or because of the Rohypnol that remained in his system. 

"Gibbs?" Tony turned towards Gibbs with a worried expression, his legs moving restlessly beneath the covers. "What's…goin' on?"

Gibbs smiled with as much confidence as he could muster. "Take it easy, everything'll be fine," he said. Tony must have found those simple words reassuring because he made a small sound that might have been him saying, "'kay," and closed his eyes.

Mike Franks had been on the phone talking with Director Morrow as soon as it became apparent that Senator Harding hadn't come to the surface, and the director had immediately sent out another NCIS investigative team. Gibbs expected to see sparks fly once the NCIS agents arrived and started to fight the FBI over jurisdiction.

From outside came the sound of shouts and Gibbs left Tony's side to investigate. He looked out the bedroom window at the brightly lit lakefront. A dozen men – feds and LEOs – were moving around by the boathouse, and a small boat was slowly wending its way back and forth across the lake, a searchlight on its bow shining on the dark water. One man held something aloft he'd fished out of the lake but it was apparently only an old piece of clothing. That meant they still hadn't located Harding's body.

Gibbs knew that the last shot he'd fired had hit Harding high in the chest, and if Harding were still alive when he went overboard, the freezing water would have finished him off. The senator had either drowned or died from his wounds and then sunk to the bottom of the lake; either way, the world could only be a better place with the bastard dead and gone.

There was no sign of Mike Franks, but Gibbs figured his boss was working with the FBI down in the dungeon under the stables.

Agent Greene was busy doing a security check of the guest room, opening doors and peering into adjacent rooms and closets. "That's a sitting room with access to the main hallway," he reported to Fornell, jerking a thumb in the direction of a closed door on the far side of the bedroom. "I locked the door. The door we came in leads to the hallway and opposite is the kitchen," he said, being thorough. "Over here we have the bathroom, to the left, and there's a big closet on the right."

"That is a dressing room," the housekeeper interjected, talking about the large closet from which she had retrieved additional blankets. "Senator Harding keeps extra clothing there for his guests, for swimming and boating and such. The senator always thinks of details like that. He takes very good care of his guests," she said proudly. "They always leave here happy."

Gibbs exchanged looks with Agent Greene, whose jaw was set as much as Gibbs' was, in an effort to refrain from explaining to the woman _exactly_ how Harding had treated the special guests he had taken into the basement below the old stables; how far too many young men had left the estate wrapped in plastic and were disposed of like unwanted garbage.

Fornell saw that the housekeeper was hovering and he asked impatiently, "Is there something else, Mrs. Polanksi?"

The woman wrapped her arms around herself as if she were suddenly cold, and asked tentatively, "What about Senator Harding? Is he…is he gone, sir?"

Fornell said evenly, "We're still investigating, ma'am, but it looks that way."

Her hand went to her mouth, but Mrs. Polanski was apparently made of stern stuff. After a moment she lowered her trembling fingers and nodded, acknowledging that her fears had been confirmed.

The housekeeper probably didn't have any idea what Harding had been doing in the basement dungeon only a few yards from the main house, but just the same Gibbs wasn't feeling very charitable towards the senator's employee. He prompted, "You were going to get us something hot to drink, ma'am."

Mrs. Polanski said, "Of course, sir," and hurried in the direction of the kitchen.

Gibbs returned to Tony's bedside to find Tony's eyes were closed and he was lying on his side, facing away from him, curled up in a ball. Gibbs wanted to reach out and touch Tony's back, to let him know he was there for him, but he hesitated. Even if Fornell and Mike Franks had seen the way he'd kissed Tony's hand and made a public spectacle of himself, down on the dock, Gibbs was not the kind of man to openly display affection. Not that there was anything wrong with offering a touch of comfort to an individual who was hurt, but Gibbs didn't want to expose himself in front of his fellow agents.

Gibbs thought that Tony looked a little better already, not blue about the lips like he'd been when they'd first pulled him out of the water. The heating blanket seemed to be warming him up pretty quickly but Gibbs was pretty sure that Tony was going to need help changing into the dry clothing.

Fornell stood on the opposite side of Tony's bed, looking down at Tony. Gibbs said to him in a quiet voice, "Burley's bringing a change of clothes from the car. Might need help." Fornell nodded that he understood.

Tony opened his eyes to see the FBI agent looming over him. Fornell gave him a confident smile and said, "Better get you out of those wet trousers, son." He pulled the blankets back and reached to unbuckle Tony's belt, but Tony shrank from him, clumsily pushed the agent's hand away.

"No…where's Gibbs?" Tony called out, sounding panicky, "Jethro?"

"I'm right here." Gibbs quickly moved around the bed and pushed Fornell aside. He sat facing Tony, taking the young man's hands in his own. They were like ice and there were marks on his wrists from the heavy leather cuffs that Harding had secured him with. The abrasions didn't appear to be deep but they would need to be looked at when a doctor checked him over. "It's okay, nobody's going to make you do anything you don't want to," Gibbs said, kicking himself for not expecting that Tony might be apprehensive of men – of being touched – after his experiences with Harding. That included the FBI agents, even though Tony must know they would do him no harm. Tony didn't seem to mind that Gibbs was holding his hands and when Gibbs gave them a gentle squeeze, Tony responded in kind.

"Didn't mean to scare you, Tony," Fornell said apologetically, and then went to talk about the case with Greene. He soon pulled out his phone, saying, "Better make sure our agents assigned to Torres haven't done something stupid like losing him."

Greene asked, "We going after him tonight, Boss?"

"As soon as everything's under control here," Fornell assured his man. "Thanks to all the surveillance we have plenty on him to take him down." He added with a smile in Tony's direction, "And thanks go to Tony, as well, for wearing the wire. Might make a federal agent out of you yet, kid."

Despite his reluctance to touch Tony with the feds looking on, Gibbs couldn’t help himself. He stroked Tony's damp hair back from his face, and Tony relaxed under the gentle ministrations. "Nice," Tony said, his eyes halfway closed. The water had washed away the blood from the gash on Tony's scalp, just above his ear, and now the wound was exposed Gibbs could see its ragged edges. Luckily it was barely bleeding.

"He backhanded me," Tony said, not meeting Gibbs' eyes.

"His ring must have cut you," Gibbs explained, and when Tony's hand rose to touch it, Gibbs warned, "Don't," and pulled Tony's hand away.

"I want to go home," Tony said in a small voice, raising his eyes to Gibbs', full of anguish.

How could he refuse Tony anything when he looked at him like that, as if Gibbs could somehow take away his pain and make things better? "Soon, Tony," he said, wondering where Tony called home. College? Or his father's house?

Before Gibbs could ask where he wanted to go, Tony said, "Your home."

God, if that were only possible. "Gotta get you checked out at the hospital," he said.

"You gonna leave me?" Tony asked, blinking heavily, finding it difficult to remain awake.

Gibbs assured him, "Not goin' anywhere." Tony's eyes closed with relief and Gibbs noticed the dark circles under his eyes. Tony was obviously exhausted but at least his injuries appeared to be minimal; the swelling to the right side of his face, where Harding had struck him, had already gone down, and although there was some bruising, it didn't appear that Tony was going to have a black eye after all. Just the same, being immersed for several minutes in the freezing lake and almost drowning would be detrimental to anyone's health, and there were additional factors putting Tony at risk, like being doped with the date-rape drug.

Gibbs was about to ask where the hell were those paramedics when Stan Burley hurried in with two of the go-bags that the agents always kept in their cars. "Got the extra clothes, Gibbs," he said as he dropped the bags on the end of the bed and pulled out socks and sweatpants. "Hey, Tony."

Gibbs asked, "And the EMTs?"

"Oh yeah, an ambulance just left with Petty Officer Kovacs," Burley said, "and the other one radioed in that their ETA is now ten minutes. They got caught in the jam at the construction site at the bridge."

"How's Kovacs doing?" asked Gibbs. He looked over his shoulder and saw that Fornell was still on the phone and Greene was standing by the door, apparently on guard, though Gibbs wasn't sure what for.

Burley said, "He was in pretty bad shape, in and out of consciousness. Jenny went with him in the ambulance."

Gibbs grunted. Agent Franks had assigned Shepard to go to the hospital with Kovacs, to take photos and collect evidence when the medical personnel treated Senator Harding's latest – and final – victim. Thank God the petty officer was still alive when they found him, though it was likely he'd carry the physical and emotional scars with him for the rest of his life. Gibbs looked at Tony's battered face and wondered how badly _he_ would be affected by the trauma he'd been subjected to. Tony might have had personal experience of his own in dealing with abuse, but that didn't mean his coping mechanisms were able to handle being kidnapped, drugged, caught in a crossfire of bullets and nearly drowned, as well. At least Tony had been spared being sexually penetrated, even if he'd been forced into giving Senator Harding a blowjob in the back of the limo.

The most important thing right now was to get Tony checked out by a doctor. The rest…well, they'd have to deal with it later, as it came. Gibbs would be there to help Tony in any way he could through what was sure to be a tough time. His thoughts were interrupted when Tony asked in a subdued tone, "He's gonna be okay? The sailor?"

"He's going to get the care he needs, Tony," was all Gibbs could promise. "Jenny's going to stick with Kovacs. Make sure he's taken care of properly."

After a moment Tony nodded. "That's good. She's strong."

Stan held out a heavy pair of socks. "Want to start with these?"

Gibbs put the socks on Tony's chilled feet, and then tucked the heated blanket around his legs again. He reminded himself to thank the housekeeper for suggesting they bring Tony into this safe, warm room.

It wasn't only Jenny who took the fate of Petty Officer Kovacs personally. Gibbs cared about the young man's future, in part because he was the only one of Harding's victims who had made it out alive, and Kovacs deserved the chance at a good future. Gibbs knew they owed Kovacs a lot, more than the young man would probably ever know. If Senator Harding hadn't been occupied with assaulting Kovacs, by the time the agents broke into the basement they would have found Tony strapped face down on that bench, with Harding laying into him. Tony may not have been subjected to the same kind of treatment as the dozen young men who came before him, or suffered their fate, but he had been hurt plenty by Harding. Now Tony and Kovacs had something in common – they were both survivors.

"God help them all," Gibbs whispered, thinking of the poor souls who had never made it out of Harding's torture chamber alive.

There was still a lot or work to do in order to get this case wrapped up to both Morrow's and the SecNav's satisfaction. Until the wounded were under medical care – and that included Mike Franks – and the final case report had Director Morrow's stamp of approval on it, Gibbs had to stay focused. He was itching to be by Mike Franks' side, gathering evidence to support their case, taking statements and tying up loose ends. Even with Harding dead, their priorities as federal agents hadn't changed. But Gibbs' need to stay with Tony was greater than his longing to be working the case, and he stayed by his bedside.

Mrs. Polanski appeared in the doorway bearing a tray with a pot of steaming coffee, and one of tea, along with several mugs. Agent Greene took the tray from the housekeeper and indicated she could leave. He poured a mug of tea and added a couple of heaping spoonfuls of sugar to it. Handing the mug to Gibbs, he said kindly, "Tony should drink this. Warm him up from the inside."

"Thanks," said Gibbs, savoring the heat seeping through the ceramic mug. He indicated to Fornell he needed assistance, and explained to Tony, "Fornell is going to help sit you up, so you can drink this. It's hot. Okay?" Tony gave a small nod after a brief hesitation.

Fornell moved to the opposite side of the bed and kneeled on the mattress to get close to Tony. Tony stiffened when Fornell slid a hand behind his back but once the young man was upright and began to drink the hot tea, he was so intent on drinking that he paid no mind to the FBI agent touching him. Gibbs kept one hand on the mug, steadying it, and another on Tony's shoulder, watching him with concern. As soon as Tony finished the tea, Gibbs helped him to lie back and then tugged the electric blanket and the other coverings into place. Tony closed his eyes and seemed to drift off to sleep.

"Here," said Greene. He stuck a mug of black coffee in Gibbs' hand, surprising him.

Gibbs nodded his thanks, drank a good amount of the scalding liquid, and then gave a satisfied sigh. After putting the mug aside, he gently touched Tony's shoulder to rouse him and said, "Gotta get your pants off. Into some dry clothes." This wasn't going to be easy. Underneath the wet pants Tony was wearing the chastity belt that Gibbs had strapped on him, and that was something that Gibbs really did not want the FBI agents to see.

"Pants? Okay," Tony mumbled, although he didn't move. A second later his eyes opened wide with realization. "Oh. The key?"

Gibbs dug under the neck of his damp shirt and pulled out a ball chain necklace with a small key dangling from it. "I've got it," he said with a grin. Had it only been a few hours since Tony had given him the key for safekeeping? It felt more like days since he'd discovered that Tony had gone off on his own in an attempt to get damning evidence against Harding. Gibbs had to put his anger aside, once again, along with the fear that blossomed every time he thought about Tony doing such a foolhardy move. He could have so easily lost Tony any number of times during this op, like when Tony had shoved Harding overboard to save Gibbs from being shot, and had ended up in the cold lake. Gibbs' desperate search for Tony in the dark waters, thinking he had drowned, was likely to become a reoccurring nightmare.

Putting away the bad thoughts, Gibbs held the key aloft so Tony could see it. "I kept it warm."

Tony smiled at Gibbs as if he had done something special. "You kept it safe. Kept _me_ safe."

Gibbs shook his head. "No." He hadn't kept Tony safe. Right at the start, he hadn't done enough to stop Morrow from using Tony as bait to draw in Harding and Torres. He hadn't done any number of things that his training and his gut had told him to do, and the result had been that Tony was put in considerable danger. Even if Tony had acted on his own, his safety was ultimately Gibbs' responsibility. Gibbs had known better than anyone that the young man had a mind of his own, yet he hadn't paid attention to the hints that Tony was up to something and then taken steps to assure that he was kept under a tight rein. Instead Gibbs had missed the signs, and as a result Tony had been able to slip out and take matters into his own hands. The fact that Tony was still alive was a miracle, and that was a gift that Gibbs would never again take for granted.

"Gibbs, you should get into something dry, too," said Burley, interrupting Gibbs' thoughts. Burley held out a change of clothing for the lead agent. "Agent Franks says I should drive you to the hospital."

Gibbs inhaled deeply, and was about to say he planned ride in the ambulance with Tony, when a cough erupted and then another, and he had to hold one hand to his chest to ease the resulting pain. The coughing fit was over soon enough but when he wiped his eyes everyone, even Fornell, was looking at him with undisguised worry. In an attempt to allay their concerns, Gibbs flapped a hand while he worked to keep another cough at bay. He'd swallowed plenty of water from the lake earlier and had probably inhaled some, too. "'m fine," he said, echoing Tony's earlier words.

"Jethro," Tony said, struggling up on one elbow, as if he planned on getting out of bed altogether.

"I'm okay," Gibbs said quickly, unfortunately wheezing and not sounding very okay. With a hand to his chest, he made light of it, saying, "Musta been thirsty enough to drink that lake water. Okay, gotta get you up, Tony, to get you into dry clothes."

Fornell put away his phone and came over. He pointed out, slightly exasperated, "You're in no shape to be taking care of the kid, Gibbs."

Standing, Gibbs let the blanket drop away from his shoulders, and he stood erect, doing his best to appear robust, even if his entire body ached and his lungs wouldn’t let him draw a deep breath. Gibbs ignored Fornell's stern look, insisting, "I'm going to take care of Tony. How about everyone clear out of here for a few minutes?"

Fornell snorted and said, "You're worse than Franks, who's out there bleeding all over the place while he makes sure the FBI doesn't steal the investigation away from your agency. You NCIS guys can't let anything go, can you, Gibbs?"

Gibbs released a huff of breath. "And this is coming from the man who's been doggin' Alonzo Torres for the past year?"

Fornell laughed and bowed his head in agreement. "Good thing we're all cut from the same cloth, 'cause nobody in his right mind would do half the crap we do, all in the line of duty. Look, I have to go and take care of things down by the lake before they get ugly. Seems some Navy cops have turned up and they're threatening to toss my guys into the lake."

Fornell turned to leave, indicating that Greene should accompany him when Gibbs called after him, "Fornell, make sure Franks gets that leg of his taken care of, will ya?"

"You think he'll listen to me?"

Gibbs said, "Well Franks sure as hell won't listen to me."

"I hear someone gripin' about me behind my back?" Franks asked gruffly from the doorway. He had an air of excitement about him despite his irritable expression, and Gibbs knew something was up.

Agent Fornell laughed. "You bet we are, Franks. We're on our way down to the boathouse right now to keep the peace. Have to make sure we don't have to fish any more of your agents out of the water. As soon as the EMTs arrive we'll send them in here," Fornell assured Gibbs, and then he and Agent Greene were gone.

Franks closed the door and advanced into the room to where Gibbs was standing protectively in front of Tony's bed. He acknowledged Burley's presence and then peered at Tony. "You holding up okay? Gibbs takin' care of you?"

Tony stared at Franks and then said, "Yes, sir."

Gibbs added, "He's strong."

Franks waved a hand dismissively and said, "Hell, I knew that as soon as I met him. It's not like you to pick up stray pups, Gunny, but when you do, you sure end up with a scrapper."

Gibbs saw that Franks' pants leg had been cut up the seam and someone had bandaged his thigh wound. Although Franks was favoring his leg, he was walking on it, so Gibbs didn't push his boss to go to the hospital. Mike Franks never did anything he didn't want to, and pressing the issue wouldn’t help matters any.

"Gotta borrow Gibbs," Franks said to Burley, and limped back to the doorway, indicating for Gibbs to join him. It was obvious that whatever it was that Franks had to impart, it wasn't for Tony's ears.

Burley asked, "You want to me to leave, Boss?"

Franks shook his head. "Just stay with Tony." When Gibbs was standing close enough, Franks told him in an undertone, "Found a secret room under the stables, behind a false wall next to Harding's playroom. Looks like our favorite senator couldn’t help himself. He kept mementos."

That was no surprise. Most serial killers kept something to remind them of the power they had over their victims, even after death, whether it was a piece of clothing or personal item or, all too often, a body part.

Franks told him that Senator Harding – the Lookout Serial Killer, as they'd dubbed him – had a whole wall of mementos. "He saved all sorts of trophies."

"Human trophies?" asked Gibbs, afraid to know.

"No. Luckily, no body parts. Dog tags, IDs, personal items mostly," Franks said. "Some hair clippings. They go back twenty years, from the looks of it."

Gibbs glanced over his shoulder at Tony, who was talking quietly to Burley. Tony must have said something funny because Burley laughed in amusement. He turned back to Franks in time to see his boss pulling a clear plastic evidence bag out of an inside pocket.

"Thought you might be interested in this," Franks said.

Gibbs' stomach clenched as he reached out to take the bag from his boss. Inside the bag were a dozen photos, the old Polaroid type. He knew, without even looking closely at them, that they were pictures of Tony.

_"When I was fourteen we were at our summer place out in the Hamptons…"_

Franks half-turned away and rubbed his hand over his unshaven jaw. "I never have been much good at keepin' up with all that crap paperwork, loggin' in evidence." He met Gibbs' eyes straight on. "That kinda thing. Look, Gunny, nobody's gonna miss a few photos, and one more victim added to Harding's totem ain't gonna to make no difference – except to that kid's future."

Gibbs looked at the evidence in his hand. Through the heavy plastic he could see the top photo. It was of a young teenaged boy, naked and tied to a bed.

_"You know how you can sense when there's something…wrong with a person? Like maybe your Dad has an old friend who comes to visit for a weekend…This friend's a war hero, Dad says, and he brings you presents so you have to treat him right, but every time he comes near you the hair stands up on the back of your neck."_

The youth was face down but his face was turned in the direction of the camera. It was unmistakably a photo of Tony.

_"He tied me facedown on the bed and he hit me and I screamed for my dad but he didn't come. He…he got behind me and he…He di-didn't fu-fuck me for long 'cause I sto-stopped struggling and I sorta blanked out. I just looked out the window at the kids playing on the beach."_

"I can't," began Gibbs. "We can't do this with evidence. The other investigators must know–"

Franks laid one of his hands on Gibbs' shoulder and said vehemently, "You listen to me, and you listen to me good, Gunny. This isn't the kind of thing that just goes away once it's bagged and tagged and filed away. Even if the SecNav wants this whole thing to disappear, you and I both know it ain't gonna happen like that. The cat's outta the fuckin' bag. It'll be splashed all over the early edition and nice folks are gonna get up in the mornin' and find out on "Good Morning DC" that Senator-fucking-Harding ain't exactly the fine upstanding man they were led to believe he was. The photos of every one of those young men are gonna come to light, and even if the whole thing dies down in a week or two, or whenever the next tragedy hits the headlines, there will _always_ be a file out there somewhere with these poor kids' pictures stashed in it. These pictures will end up on the goddamn internet and a hundred years from now people will still be able to pull up the images of these brave young servicemen who did nothing to deserve being tortured, raped and strangled to death." Franks took a breath and said, "So don't you damn-well tell me we can't do this."

While Gibbs stood there staring at the bag of photos in his hands, Franks pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and lit up. "You do whatever you want to do with those, Gunny, but you think of your boy before you do anything foolish."

Of course Gibbs was thinking of Tony. He shoved the package of photos into his pants pocket, wiped his hands over his face, and wondered when this nightmare was going to end.

*** end chapter 46 ***


	47. Unlocked

Gibbs sat next to Tony's bed and watched as Mike Franks paced back and forth in the guest room with his cell phone jammed up against his ear. Franks took a long draw of a slightly bent cigarette that dangled from his lips, and then exhaled fiercely through his nose. After impatiently listening to the person on the other end of the line, he broke in, saying, "Who told you 'bout that?" Frowning, Franks said testily, "All right already! I'll get it looked at as soon as…No, I ain't…Yeah, the kid's holding his own…Fine." He snapped his phone shut and groused under his breath. When he caught Gibbs smirking, Franks glared at his second. "Wipe that look off your face, Probie, if you know what's good for you."

Gibbs ducked his head for a moment then looked up at his boss with a straight face. "Ducky giving you a hard time?"

Franks shrugged uncomfortably. "Yeah, well, I want to know who the hell appointed a nosy bastard of an ME to be my personal doc." Apparently realizing that calling Dr. Mallard a nosy bastard was blatantly unfair when the doctor showed nothing but compassion and consideration for his colleagues, and usually under the most trying of circumstances, Franks stopped pacing and said in a more even tone, "He'll meet us at George Washington Hospital, where they took Kovacs. I'm gonna get back down to the dungeon before some probie Fibber gets tangled up in one of those sex machines. Burley, you're with me; there's a boatload of evidence down there to bag and tag. Gibbs, call me as soon as Tony's on his way to GW."

***

As soon as the door closed behind his boss and Stan Burley, Gibbs turned to Tony. Finally. This was the first time they'd been alone since the whole thing had started, since…he thought back…since _this morning_ , when he'd had Tony bent over the kitchen sink, one hand embedded deep in his ass, fucking him with his fingers, Tony moaning and shaking as he came, shouting out, "Jethro!" The ringing Gibbs had then heard had not been an aural sensation brought on by his own orgasm, but had turned out to be the telephone. It was Mike Franks calling to tell him to get the hell over to the Navy Yard, pronto, and to bring Tony DiNozzo with him.

Now, looking at Tony, pale and occasionally shivering, with his green eyes speaking loudly of a world of pain that _nobody_ should ever have to experience, there was so much that Gibbs wanted to say to him. He wanted to shout out his frustration – and fear – over everything that had happened since Tony had taken matters into his own hands. Gibbs wanted to offer tender words of love, too, and those weren't going to be any easier for him to speak than the words of anger. He doubted he'd be able to express any of his inner turmoil aloud. Not here, not while they were still in Harding's house, anyway. Instead, Gibbs ran a hand down the side of Tony's face, in a gentle and reassuring gesture. In the end, all he could say was, "God, Tony," his voice cracking with pent-up emotion.

"Jethro…" Tony's hand snuck out from under the blankets to touch Gibbs' chest, right over his heart. "When he shot you on the dock…I saw you go down…I thought…"

Gibbs took hold of Tony's hand and, with closed eyes, kissed the palm. He opened his eyes and smiled a little to allay Tony's fears. "It was a hell of a punch but I'm okay."

"My fault you ended up in the water. If I hadn't–"

Gibbs replayed that terrible moment when Harding had taken aim at him and Tony had knocked the senator in the lake to prevent him from getting off a shot, falling in as well. "He would have shot me," Gibbs agreed. "Hey, let's not get into that now. Just rest and don't talk."

Tony wasn't about to let it go. "I was drowning. You saved me." He reached out his arms and Gibbs drew Tony to him, holding him tight with his face buried in Tony's neck, inhaling his scent.

Gibbs could feel Tony's heart beating fast. "You saved me, too," Gibbs said. How true that was, in more ways than one. Only a couple of days ago he had been on the brink of settling for marriage and a steady but boring life. Meeting Tony, getting to know him both in and out of bed, had changed everything for Gibbs – his desires, his hopes, and his ability to love in a way he'd never expected to love again since he'd lost Shannon – and he knew that nothing would ever be the same.

Gibbs reluctantly released Tony and pulled down the blankets. "Right now we need to get this thing off." One hand skimmed over Tony's groin, seeking the hard shell of the chastity belt hidden under his pants. How Gibbs hated the device, yet he was relieved that it had prevented Harding from gaining easy access to Tony's body. "Can we get it off here, in bed?"

Tony blushed a little. "Uh…it's easier in the bathroom."

Gibbs felt such relief that Tony's cheeks had gained a little color that he'd missed the point of what Tony had just said. "Bathroom?"

Tony said haltingly, "To take off the belt…I need to stand. Lean over?" Gibbs remembered the large dildo that was attached to the chastity belt, the huge rubber thing that had been embedded in Tony's ass for hours now, and he cringed inwardly. Tony saw Gibbs' reaction and he admitted, "Yeah, I'm kinda sore."

"You sure you can walk to the bathroom?" Tony nodded so Gibbs said, "Let's do it then." He pulled a sweatshirt from one of the bags that Burley had dropped at the end of the bed and helped Tony to sit up and put it on. He was gentle, mindful of the many small injuries and bruises on Tony's chest and arms, some of them unmistakably round – burns from the limo's cigarette lighter. God, he wanted to kill that bastard Harding. Hiding his anger, Gibbs eased Tony out of bed and got him to his feet. Gibbs slipped his arm around Tony and once he was sure that the younger man wasn't going to keel over, they started towards the bathroom.

"Have to give you your belt back," Tony said with a small smile. "Never got the chance to use the knife. He cuffed me right away."

"I didn't give you the belt because I expected you to use the knife," Gibbs said sharply.

"What'd you give it to me for, then?"

Gibbs raised an eyebrow. "To hold your damned pants up, DiNozzo."

Earlier, in the hotel room, Gibbs had loaned Tony his belt solely because Tony didn't have one of his own. He had never expected Tony to need the knife hidden behind the belt buckle. Tony's job had been to open the door and that was all. Of course these things rarely ran true to form and they'd been stupid to expect anything to go according to plan. What was supposed to have been a rare chance for the FBI and NCIS to record the conversation of three suspects had turned dangerous the moment the venue changed. As soon as Tony got into Harding's limo the feds lost control of the situation, and adding Alonzo Torres to the mix had made the situation all the more volatile. All Gibbs could think was that Tony was damned lucky to be alive.

"You okay there, Jethro?"

Gibbs' head snapped up to see Tony looking at him worriedly. "Sure. Let's get this done," he said and guided Tony safely to the bathroom.

***

Tony leaned forward, holding onto the countertop in a white-knuckled grip, wearing only the borrowed sweatshirt and socks, and the chastity belt he'd called 'the Enforcer.' His arms were shaking but his long, bare legs appeared relatively steady.

Gibbs kicked Tony's still-damp trousers out of the way and stood beside him. After using his key to unlock the padlock on the front of the chastity belt, Gibbs undid the buckles that secured the device around Tony's waist. "What next?"

Tony looked down at his groin. "You have to pull the cup off, but easy, okay?" He tensed as if preparing for the worst. "Just pull it down. Once it's off you let the harness dangle and then you have to pull the dildo out of me."

Gibbs looked at Tony in the mirror, and was reminded that Senior had done this same task for his son a countless number of times. The image that sprang to mind was not one that Gibbs was comfortable with. "It'll be over soon," he promised, not liking Tony's pallor or the way his whole body had begun to tremble slightly. Telling himself to just do it, Gibbs reached around and gingerly pulled the cup down and away from Tony's groin. He let it drop, as Tony had instructed, and something fell out and landed with a clatter on the bathroom floor. Gibbs almost laughed in surprise. It was the cell phone that Tony had stolen from his father, the cell that had been emitting a signal that Jenny and Stan had been tracking all evening. "We wondered where you'd hidden it," Gibbs said with a crooked smile.

"He searched me when I got in the limo. Got mad when he discovered the chastity belt," Tony said lightly, glancing up at Gibbs.

"Bet he did," replied Gibbs, knowing that Tony was understating Senator Harding's anger. He got back to business. Now the only thing holding the chastity belt to Tony's body was the dildo, still attached to the strap that ran between his legs. Tony stood with his hands braced against the bathroom countertop as if he was afraid to move so Gibbs asked cautiously, "You okay?"

Tony bit his lip and gave a nod. "Yeah," he said in a small voice. He peered down at his limp cock. "Looks like it needs some recovery time. And a lot of TLC," he said, looking hopefully at Gibbs.

Gibbs' cock twitched at the way Tony was looking at him with his big eyes. "I think we both need some downtime and, believe me, TLC is on the agenda. Okay, ready?" Gibbs placed one hand in the middle of Tony's back to steady him, and grasped the end of the dildo. He pulled on it, ever so gently, but it didn't want to budge. Tony exhaled deeply and Gibbs pulled a little harder and felt it start to slide out. Tony winced but Gibbs continued to withdraw the long, black rubber cock from Tony's rear. Finally it was out, slick and shiny.

Gibbs pulled the belt the rest of the way off Tony and dumped the contraption, with the dildo still attached to the belt, on the bathroom floor. He never wanted to see it again. It would have to be disposed of quickly so the investigators didn't get wind of it; Gibbs definitely didn't want any mention of the chastity belt in the case report.

Tony stood there with his head down, panting, looking young and vulnerable in his too-large gray NCIS sweatshirt, naked from the waist down – unless you counted the socks warming his feet.

Gibbs asked, "You all right?"

Tony didn't raise his head. "G-give me a minute."

"Take all the time you need." Gibbs put his hands on Tony's bare hips, just to support him while he needed it most. He was concerned that Tony might not want to be touched after everything he'd been through, but Tony relaxed a little and straightened, and when he leaned back it seemed natural for Gibbs to wrap his arms around him. Tony made a small contented sound so Gibbs nuzzled the side of Tony's neck and kissed his cool skin. "I wish, with all my heart," Gibbs said fervently, "that I could take away the pain, all the terrible memories. I don't know…don't know how to do that."

"You're doing just fine," Tony responded, running his fingers back and forth over Gibbs' forearms. "I like the way you take care of me."

Gibbs rubbed one hand lightly over Tony's stomach, skimming the sweatshirt material back and forth across, but never touching, the skin beneath it. He murmured into Tony's hair that he'd always take care of him, that everything would be okay, all the time wondering what right he had to promise things that he had no control over.

Tony leaned back against Gibbs, letting him bear some of his weight, and after a moment he said, "You're good for me, Jethro. Just what the doctor ordered."

Gibbs ran his cheek back and forth against Tony's hair. "You'll be fine," he said, almost believing it to be true. After a minute, when Tony sighed, Gibbs said, "I forgot to bring in the sweatpants. Let's go back to the bedroom and I'll help you put them on."

"I gotta take a leak first," said Tony. Gibbs leaned over and raised the toilet seat without letting go of Tony, intending to support him from behind, but Tony patted Gibbs' hand where it rested on his waist and said, "I can pee on my own, Gibbs. I have to clean up a bit back there, too."

"You sure you can stand on your own?" Gibbs carefully inspected Tony's reflection in the mirror, looking for signs of weakness, but Tony did seem to be a bit better, more aware now that he was up and moving about.

Tony smiled weakly. "Yeah. Still sort of fuzzy around the edges from whatever…whatever _he_ gave me, but I'm good. Can't seem to shake feeling so cold though."

Tony couldn’t say Harding's name, and Gibbs didn't blame him. Gibbs wanted to kiss Tony but he held back, concerned that it might not be a good idea after everything Tony had gone through. Just when Gibbs decided he should just leave him to do his business in private, Tony turned within Gibbs' arms and faced him.

"Warm me up," said Tony, brushing his lips across Gibbs' before pulling back slightly to look into his eyes. Tony's tongue darted out to moisten his lips, and then he kissed Gibbs again. It was a simple meeting of their mouths, sweet and almost chaste.

Gibbs returned Tony's kiss with a similar amount of pressure, and no more. It took a bit of resolve but he let Tony take the lead, sensitive to the younger man's need to regain some sense of control. Kissing Tony was always a heady experience, and these soft, cautious kisses that held the promise of things to come made Gibbs dizzy with desire. Gibbs waited for Tony to kiss him again, and this time Tony angled his head and sucked lightly on Gibbs' tongue, kissing him so deeply that for a long, delicious moment Gibbs forgot where they were and what the next few days were going to entail. Pushing away the unwanted thoughts of writing reports, and dealing with shooting reviews and unhappy bosses, Gibbs let Tony's kisses sweep him away.

He mouthed the soft skin under Tony's jaw and sucked on his earlobe before returning to place one last kiss on his lips, lingering, savoring Tony's taste and smell. Even now, after being dunked in the lake, a slight scent of coffee lingered behind Tony's ear, where he'd dabbed some of Gibbs' coffee as a reminder of their relationship.

"I want you," Tony said in a low voice, looking into Gibbs' eyes. "Want us to be together, just us. Nobody else, no world, no anger and hate, none of that shit."

"Yeah, me too," Gibbs replied, just as softly. He sighed. "But right now you need to take care of business and then you need to get checked out–"

"I don't need–"

"Yes, you do. You need to be–"

"I only need you."

"Soon," Gibbs promised. "Real soon."

***

Gibbs stuffed the chastity belt in his bag, zipped it up and dumped it on the bed. He planned to dispose of it at the first opportunity. It had served its purpose but there was no reason to keep it any more. Even if the belt had prevented Harding from raping Tony, Gibbs despised the thing _because_ it had been a necessary evil. Tony never should have been exposed to such a situation in the first place.

He looked around and realized he must have left Tony's wet trousers on the bathroom floor along with the cell phone Tony had stolen from his father. Any contact information stored on Senior's phone could very well prove to be interesting. The surveillance wire that had been sewn into the waistband of Tony's pants would most likely be ruined after getting wet, but Gibbs planned to return it to the techs anyway. He also had to retrieve the belt that he'd loaned to Tony earlier that evening.

Gibbs knocked lightly on the bathroom door. "Tony, I need your trousers and the phone." While he waited for Tony to respond, Gibbs noticed that the door to the dressing room just across the small hallway was ajar. He was sure that the door had been shut when he'd walked past it only a couple of minutes ago. Immediately on high alert, Gibbs called, "Tony!" and barged into the bathroom, swearing because he'd handed his weapon over to the investigating team.

Tony was standing at the sink brushing his teeth, wearing only the borrowed socks and sweatshirt. Startled, he halted in mid-stroke and turned towards Gibbs. He asked, through a mouthful of toothpaste, "Wha's wrong?"

Gibbs looked past Tony, doing a quick visual check of the bathroom. There was nowhere for anyone to hide; the shower curtain was pulled back so he could see that there was nobody lurking in the tub, but Gibbs still had a feeling that something was not right. "You doing okay in here?" he asked casually, eyeing Tony's cock, which looked as if it was recovering nicely after being confined for so long. Gibbs was also happy to see that Tony didn't appear quite so pale as he'd been earlier, and he was no longer shivering.

"Fighn," Tony said before he rinsed out his mouth. Reaching for a hand towel, he asked, "You got those sweatpants or d'you want me to walk out like this?" Tony motioned to his naked groin with a teasing smile but all of a sudden he stiffened and his eyes widened in horror at something beyond Gibbs' shoulder.

Gibbs caught a glint of shining metal out of the corner of his eye. Even before Tony called out a warning, Gibbs instinctively twisted and raised his right arm protectively. He saw someone close behind him and jerked back – not quite fast enough. A knife swooped down and the blade slashed across his raised forearm. Blood spurted from his wounded arm, a heartbeat before the piercing pain hit. It hurt like a bitch but Gibbs' Marine training kicked in and he threw himself at his assailant and jabbed his stiffened fingers at his face.

The man screamed and clutched at his gouged eye, stumbling back a pace. Gibbs didn't have to see his attacker's face to know that this was Senator Harding.

Harding had not only survived a couple of gunshot wounds, as well as being pitched into the freezing waters of the lake, but evidently he'd made his way into the house without being seen. And, from the looks of things, he'd even found himself some dry clothing. The closet – he'd been in the damned closet the whole time, Gibbs thought.

Being partially blind didn't prevent Harding from slashing wide arcs with the large hunting knife in his hand, and Gibbs didn't underestimate the danger that both he and Tony were in.

"You think you can come into my house and take what's mine?" Harding demanded, outraged, his hand dropping away from his face. He was blinking rapidly to keep his good eye open while his damaged eye was closed tight, tears and blood streaming down his cheek. It was obvious from his murderous expression that Harding wanted Tony back, and he wasn't about to let anyone get in his way – especially Gibbs.

Gibbs jumped out of the way as Harding repeatedly thrust the deadly blade at him, narrowly missing, and when one of the jabs came perilously close to disemboweling him, he backed into Tony who hadn't moved from where he stood next to the sink. Gibbs threw a hand out to steady himself, and for a split second caught a glimpse of Tony's terrified face. The sight was enough to make Gibbs know in his heart that he'd do everything within his power to protect his young lover, even die for him. There was little room to maneuver but somehow Gibbs had to disarm Harding and give Tony the chance to get the hell out of there. Keeping an eye on Harding, who was blocking the only exit, Gibbs shoved Tony in the direction of the tub at the rear of the bathroom.

Harding asserted, "I'm taking him."

"Give it up, Harding. This one will never be yours," Gibbs growled. He crouched in a defensive stance, watching for an opening.

The senator made a guttural noise and took another stab at Gibbs, but he overcompensated and Gibbs took advantage of the opening and deflected his arm. Gibbs swiftly followed through with a kick to Harding's knee and a punch to his kidneys, sending the large man crashing face-first into the wall. Launching himself onto Harding's back, Gibbs fought to get a good hold but the senator was fast and countered Gibbs' move. With a great roar of anger, Harding threw his weight back, crowding Gibbs into the corner of the bathroom. An elbow rammed into Gibbs' stomach hard enough to leave him gasping for air.

Harding had about thirty pounds on Gibbs, and Gibbs had a momentary stab of fear that he might not be able to gain the upper hand long enough for Tony to escape. Where the hell were the other agents? Somebody must have heard them fighting by now.

Harding twisted to face Gibbs, and lashed out again with his knife. Gibbs ducked to one side but he slipped in something wet, almost going down. He lurched and regained his feet, driving a series of blows to Harding's torso, only to feel a hot lance of pain when the steel blade was driven into his thigh. Gibbs cried out in agony and struck out in retaliation, punching Harding hard on his ear.

Harding bellowed in pain and staggered, tearing his knife out of Gibbs' leg and raising it high with the intention of driving it into Gibbs' chest. Gibbs saw his opening – he grabbed Harding's upraised hand and, with a struggle, forced the man's fingers back until the knife dropped to the bathroom floor with a clatter and skittered out of reach. Harding shouted in rage at being disarmed and he punched Gibbs in the head with his free hand. Gibbs took the blows and, putting his combat skills to work, was finally able to twist Harding's arm behind him and secure him in a chokehold.

Harding was struggling with strength that belied his considerable injuries but there was no way that Gibbs was going to let up until Tony got the hell out of the bathroom and to safety. Gibbs exerted more pressure on Harding's neck but his forearm was bleeding copiously and almost numb, and his grip was weakening.

Gibbs had a feeling he wasn't going to be able to hold onto Harding for much longer. He spared a glance in Tony's direction and saw he was flat against the tiled wall in the bathtub, as white as a sheet with a shocked expression on his face. Gibbs shouted, "Tony! Get out of here!" Tony seemed to awaken and he looked in the direction of the open bathroom door, and finally got out of the tub and began to sidle past the two fighting men.

Harding's elbow smashed into Gibbs' ribs hard enough to throw him off balance, and Gibbs lost his footing and fell sideways, dragging Harding down with him. They slammed into the hard tiled floor. Gibbs took the brunt of Harding's weight on top of him but he didn't release the arm lock he had around Harding's neck. He knew that Tony's life depended on him retaining a hold on the killer. C'mon, Tony, get past us. That's it, go, go! Get the hell out! Why was he hesitating? There, _there_ is a clear path to the door. Tony could get by them if he was quick. Gibbs pled, "Get out, Tony!"

Tony was almost at the door when he stopped and just stood there, staring wide-eyed at Harding. Red-faced and making horrible choking sounds, Harding frantically grabbed at Gibbs' forearm, his fingers digging deep into Gibbs' open knife wound.

Gibbs let out a stifled scream. Tony, instead of leaving, lunged forward and shouted, "No! Leave Gibbs alone!" He latched onto Harding's arm and refused to let go, even when Harding kicked out and Tony fell on top of them.

Gibbs yelled to Tony to let go, to run, but Tony was deaf to Gibbs' command. They were all down on the cold tile floor, a tangle of limbs with Gibbs on the bottom of the heap, fighting, grunting, with blood everywhere.

An elbow smashed Tony in the side of his head. Tony went flying, skidding across the floor to land on his discarded, wet trousers. He shook his head and staggered to his feet. Gibbs was sure that Tony was going to make a run for the door, but instead Tony scrambled over the slippery floor directly to Harding and punched him in the face. A stream of blood spewed from Harding's nose, and he gave a strangled scream. Tony, emboldened, launched himself at his tormentor with an animalistic sound coming from somewhere deep in his throat. He sank his teeth into Harding's arm and bit down hard but Harding wrenched his bloody arm out of Tony's grasp.

The weight on top of his chest was making it hard for Gibbs to breathe and he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to hold on much longer. Harding was flailing his arms and just as Gibbs was hoping like hell that Harding's knife – which was somewhere on the floor – wasn't within reach, Harding raised his arm with his knife in his hand. The shiny blade streaked towards Tony's exposed body in a deadly flash of steel, and at the same time Tony's right hand swung up as he stabbed Harding with the knife from Gibbs' belt.

Harding stiffened in agony and dropped his hunting knife as Tony sunk the blade deep into his groin. Tony put all of his weight behind the knife, twisting the blade viciously, making Harding scream.

Gibbs released Harding from the headlock and immediately grabbed Harding's mouth and the back of his skull. He twisted Harding's head with a sudden, violent jerk. There was a loud popping sound and Senator Kingston Harding slumped on top of Gibbs – dead.

Exhausted and feeling a bit sick, Gibbs pushed the heavy body off him and closed his eyes. The floor beneath him was cold but he couldn’t seem to find the energy to get up. He just needed a moment to regroup. A hand shook him and he opened his eyes reluctantly. Tony was hovering, his features twisted in worry, and he seemed disturbingly close to tears. Gibbs raised one hand and cupped Tony's cheek. He smiled a little to ease whatever was worrying the kid. "We're okay," Gibbs mumbled. It was too difficult to keep his hand raised, and when it dropped to his side he saw that Tony had blood on his face. Alarmed, Gibbs struggled to one elbow, exclaiming, "You're bleeding!"

"No, no, he didn't hurt me." Tony seemed puzzled and he touched his cheek and inspected the blood that stained his fingers. Realization swept over him and he said, "It's not mine." Tony looked down at Gibbs, and his eyes widened in alarm. He grabbed a towel and pressed it to Gibbs' leg. It took about three seconds for the pain to hit Gibbs and he almost blacked out at its intensity.

Tony yelled for help and then there were too many people in the bathroom, crowding in, all too loud. Gibbs wondered where they'd been all the time he'd been fighting with Harding, but he had a feeling that their fight had only lasted a few minutes. Time tended to get weird during combat, sort of elastic.

Someone was barking orders, pulling Tony off him, and Gibbs tried to protest but he couldn't seem to get his voice to work. He was lying in something warm and wet, and the smell of iron was strong – blood. Yeah, he knew that smell all too well. Tony was calling his name, and Fornell was there, wrapping his coat around Tony's shoulders, forcing him to accompany him out of the way, into the bedroom. There were strangers leaning over him, a man and a woman whose presence shouldn't have been so alarming but was, for some reason, and it took Gibbs a minute to understand they were EMTs. Pain in his arm, no more than a prick, really, but added onto all the other pain – his head, his arm, his thigh – it was too much. Gibbs blinked a couple of times, croaked, "Tony," and passed out.

*** end chapter 47 ***


	48. Recovery

It was the pain in his leg that brought him back to consciousness – the pain _and_ the thought that was nagging at him, somewhere in the recesses of his brain, that Tony was in danger. A hot poker skewered a raw nerve in his leg, and Gibbs groaned and reached towards the source of the pain.

Strong fingers wrapped around his wrist, preventing his hand from touching the wound, and a man's voice said reassuringly, "Hey, take it easy. You're going to be fine, Agent Gibbs. I'm almost done here."

Gibbs lifted his head slightly and saw that a blue-shirted EMT was working on his leg. His pants, saturated with blood, had been cut away and whatever the guy was doing – poking around with something sharp – hurt a whole hell of a lot more than being stabbed in the first place. A quick look around told Gibbs that he was in an ambulance, parked in front of Harding's floodlit mansion. Through the wide-open doors at the rear of the vehicle he caught a glimpse of a couple of FBI agents carrying gear into the house, but there was no sign of Tony. Gibbs mumbled, "Where's Tony?"

He tried to sit up but discovered that there were wide straps fastened across his chest and waist, securing him to a gurney. His left arm was tethered to an IV, and there were wires attached to small patches stuck to his bare chest; they ran to a monitor located somewhere over his head. A brief survey of his body told Gibbs that he'd sustained a few bruises but it didn't look as though there was any permanent damage.

"Tony? I'll find out for you. Just hang on." The EMT was binding a pressure bandage around Gibbs' upper thigh. "You lost some blood there, Agent Gibbs, but this'll hold you 'til we get you to the ER," he said calmly as he applied tape to the bandage.

God, that hurt! Gibbs clenched his teeth against a groan. His right forearm ached badly, too. Small wonder considering Harding had cut him and then dug his damned fingers deeply into the wound. The arm was already swaddled in a heavy bandage but blood was seeping through the gauze.

He couldn’t figure out how much time had passed, maybe twenty minutes, since he'd lost consciousness in the bathroom; he must have been out cold when they'd picked him up and carted him out to the ambulance. Before that, he remembered that Tony had been there, putting pressure on his heavily bleeding leg, looking scared shitless but holding his ground better than some of the agents Gibbs knew. He hated that Tony had been exposed to such violence. That's when it hit him, really sunk in, that he'd killed Senator Harding, broken his neck with his bare hands. And Tony had witnessed it and…shit, Tony had knifed Harding without hesitation, stuck the blade deep into his abuser's groin. There'd been so much blood and even now its pervasive smell clung to him, making Gibbs nauseous.

Gibbs could still hear Harding's screams and the look on Tony's face – hatred and vindictiveness – as he twisted the knife in Harding's body. It never should have come to that. If only he hadn't allowed Tony to stay for the weekend, hadn't rescued him from the police station in the first place, Tony never would have been involved, never would have been put in a position where he was given a chance to take revenge on Senator Harding. "God, Tony, what have I done?" Gibbs groaned, feeling guilty for bringing Tony into his world and keeping him there out of purely selfish reasons. Cold and dizzy, his head fell back onto the padded gurney.

He might be injured, with his brain running in a low gear, but that wasn't about to stop him from doing what he knew he had to do: get off his ass and find Tony. Gibbs turned to the medic and said, "I gotta get up. I'm a federal agent. I've got to find Tony. He was…he was with me…" His voice rose when he spoke of Tony, and the beeping that emanated from a monitor accelerated wildly. "What happened to Tony? Have you seen him?"

"Calm down," the EMT said, laying a hand on Gibbs' shoulder.

Gibbs met the medic's eyes and pled, "You don't understand. He'll be..." He coughed, thinking, Tony'll be scared and upset. He'll be running around without any pants on. Gibbs laughed at the crazy picture that presented. God, he must be loopy from loss of blood or something. His laugh turned into a cough, and then a lot more coughs, and he couldn’t stop. Sweat poured off his face and he sounded like he was hacking up a lung.

The paramedic used his stethoscope to listen to Gibbs' lungs. "Your boss said you went for a midnight swim earlier. That right?"

Gibbs was too busy coughing and trying to breathe to reply. The EMT expertly injected something into the line in Gibbs' arm and placed an oxygen mask over his face. After a couple of minutes the coughing diminished and Gibbs had his breathing under control again. "I gotta go…"

The EMT, whose badge said his name was Evander Fields, couldn’t have been more than twenty-five, but he gave Gibbs a look that clearly said he had plenty of experience dealing with difficult patients. "You are not goin' anywhere, Agent Gibbs," said Fields, with a small laugh. He raised one blue latex-gloved hand to still any protests and added, "But if your Tony is a white male, age eighteen, and comes with assorted contusions, then I'm going to offer a wild guess that that's him coming over right now." He nodded towards a woman EMT who appeared at the rear door of the emergency vehicle. "Hey, Marino, 'bout time. I've got the bleeder under control but his pressure's low. Better load your patient now, 'cause we're hittin' the road any minute."

Gibbs saw that Fornell was there to assist the woman paramedic load Tony into the ambulance. Tony was walking, thank God. Gibbs was relieved to see that he was dressed in warm clothes, including a pair of sweatpants, but a closer look revealed that Tony seemed unduly pale. The bruising on the side of his face, where Harding had backhanded him, showed up in stark comparison, and his eyes were wide with anxiety.

The EMT, Marino, guided the injured young man to sit on the gurney opposite Gibbs and as soon as Tony saw him, his whole face lit up. He leaned forward and reached across the aisle to take possession of Gibbs' hand, worried and trying to offer comfort. "Jethro!" Tony didn't even look at the ambulance crew, just clung to Gibbs' hand.

Fornell stuck his head into the ambulance. "You take care of these men," he ordered the paramedics. The FBI agent checked on how Gibbs was doing and said, "We did a good job tonight, Gibbs. I'm heading out to see what Torres is up to."

Gibbs raised a hand in acknowledgement. Yeah, it was good job that Harding was dead, for sure, but the whole op had turned into a violent mess and the guys at the top were not going to be pleased that it had turned into a big circus. Too many outsiders had become involved, the local LEOs as well as what looked like the entire FBI field office. Next thing, the press would be turning up at the gates, which was the one thing the SecNav had specifically said he didn't want.

Gibbs was glad it wasn't his job to placate the men at the top, but he knew full well that he was going to be raked over the coals for killing a U. S. senator, no matter what crimes that senator had committed, or how many young men Harding tortured and killed over the years. God knows what they were finding in the basement under the old stables, but according to Mike Franks, there was plenty of evidence of Harding's involvement in the murders.

"You okay?" Gibbs asked, his voice muffled by the oxygen mask. He was relieved to see Tony appeared to be relatively unscathed, at least physically. Still, he wanted verbal confirmation that Tony wasn't badly hurt.

Tony stared at Gibbs as if he was crazy. "Me? I'm fine. Shit, you're the one who was bleeding all over the place like a stuck pig. Scared the crap out of me," Tony blurted. "You're gonna be okay though." He squeezed Gibbs' hand and looked to Evander for confirmation. "He's going to be okay, isn't he?"

Evander smiled even though he was busy wrapping Gibbs in a heat-retention blanket and giving orders to the other paramedic. "Both of you'll be just fine. Marino's going to take care of you now, Tony." He gave the other paramedic a sign and she smoothly maneuvered Tony into a lying position, covered him with a blanket and buckled a belt across his waist. She had started taking his vitals before he knew what had happened.

Losing his connection with Gibbs must have made Tony nervous because he tugged at the belt that strapped him to the gurney, and when he couldn’t get it undone, he started to make small sounds of frustration. "No! I…I don't want this. Get it off me!"

"Tony, I need you to calm down," Marino said, holding Tony's shoulders in an effort to keep him from hurting himself.

It was as if Tony didn't hear the medic. He struggled and attempted to push her hands away. "No, no! Where's Jethro? Jethro!"

Gibbs couldn't see Tony's face because the medics were blocking his line of sight but he was certain that if Tony could just see him, he'd be all right. "Tony! Tony, I'm right here." Gibbs warned the EMTs, "Don't hold him down! He's been through a lot, doesn't need to be restrained." He hated being unable to go to Tony's side. Gibbs managed to remove his oxygen mask and he raised his voice in an attempt to get through to Tony. "Listen to me, Tony. Nobody is going to hurt you. Lie down and do what they say."

Finally the two paramedics moved aside in the cramped space, just enough so Tony could see Gibbs again. Their eyes locked and Gibbs could just about feel the relief that washed over Tony. It took a couple of minutes before Tony settled down enough for Marino to continue her assessment of his injuries. She talked to him in a calm voice while she taped a large gaze pad over the open wound above his ear, but Tony looked nervous and was shaking a bit.

Gibbs had a feeling that Tony was going to need a lot of that TLC they'd joked about earlier. The sooner they got the hell out of there, the sooner they'd be treated and released from the hospital.

Tony kept on insisting he was fine and didn't want anyone touching him, so Gibbs groused, "Rule number 24, DiNozzo. Don't lie to the medics."

Tony turned his head so he could see Gibbs. He blinked and said, "Don't mess with Gibbs' coffee?"

"That's 23. Tell the nice lady where it hurts, Tony." He kept his eyes fixed upon Tony, who gave in and answered Marino's questions about how he felt somewhat truthfully.

"Yeah, I'm c-cold. Who wouldn’t be after a dip in the lake in the middle of winter? My head hurts, here, where…uh…where Sir hit me," he said, indicating the side of his head. She asked him something else, in such a quiet voice that Gibbs couldn’t make it out, but whatever it was made Tony appear very uncomfortable. "No," Tony said, his hands gripping the blanket that covered him. She pressed for an answer and Tony spoke before she'd finished the question. "I said no! He never…he…nothing happened," he finally got out. He turned his head and cast a troubled look at Gibbs, and then closed his eyes.

Concerned, Gibbs asked Evander, "Hey, can we get the hell out of here?"

Evander replaced the mask the covered Gibbs' nose and mouth. "Sure, you want to drive?" The EMT went to close the rear doors when Mike Franks stopped him.

"I need to talk to my agent. Hey Probie," Franks called, leaning in. "You still alive in there?"

Gibbs grunted and said, "If we can get the hell out of here, we'll be fine."

Franks looked up at the EMT, who was annoyed at the delay. "Need to talk to my agent. Only be a minute." It was obvious from Franks' tone that he wasn't going to take no for an answer and once Evander moved out of the way he hoisted himself into the back of the ambulance. They traded places even though the paramedic made it clear he wasn't happy about the delay.

Franks got straight to the point. He leaned over Gibbs and spoke in a quiet voice meant only for his agent's ears. "Just so you know, I got those photos here, safe and sound." He patted his breast pocket. "I picked up your jacket when the EMTs scooped your carcass up off the floor."

Shit, how could he have forgotten about the photos that Harding had taken of young Tony, and had kept as a reminder of the sick things he'd done to him? They needed to be destroyed before anyone saw them. Gibbs grabbed Franks' arm, to tell him about the chastity belt he'd stuffed in the go-bag, which also needed to be disposed of. "There's a bag…"

Franks shushed Gibbs with a hand motion. "Got the bag, too. I'll get rid of everything. I found it when the FBI was busy taking photos. They took Tony's clothes for evidence, and Fornell got him cleaned up and dressed." Despite their rivalry with the FBI, Franks liked Fornell, as did Gibbs. "Another thing," said Franks. "You know that IA's gonna show up at your bedside asking questions about the knife the kid used. Did he have it on him when he got into the limo with Harding?"

Tony's knifing of the senator would look premeditated if it became known that he had brought the knife with him. "I gave Tony my belt with the knife when he got dressed in the hotel, and I'm wearing his." Wouldn’t look good, even if the stabbing to Harding's groin had not been the fatal blow. "He didn't pull the knife out until the end, when I had a chokehold on Harding," Gibbs said. When he'd had a good hold on Harding and Tony saw an opening, Tony had stabbed him. That wasn't going to look good from any angle. Gibbs looked past his boss, to see if Tony was listening, but the young man's face was turned away and all Gibbs could see was the pale sweep of his neck and cheek and a mop of messy hair. His heart ached for Tony. God, how he wanted to hold him.

Franks assured Gibbs, "He'll be fine. Tony told the agents who arrived first at the scene that you were badly hurt and that he was afraid that Harding was going to kill both of you."

Gibbs nodded. That was true. "Harding had his knife in his hand. He'd dropped it, but got hold of it again. He was going to knife Tony but Tony got him first." And he'd snapped Harding's neck. It sounded all right except that there had been no need for Tony to attack Harding. He should have run from the bathroom, gone for help. Instead he came back and knifed the senator. It didn't matter because Gibbs was going to back Tony up and he said so. "I'll back Tony's statement."

Franks gave a curt nod. "Director Morrow will back the whole team, all the way, and that includes Tony."

Tony was sure to like being thought of as one of the team. Gibbs fought an urge to cough and said in a raspy voice, "Thanks, Boss." When Franks turned to leave Gibbs saw that he winced. "Hey! What about you? Your leg."

"Ah, looks worse than it is. Anyway, Burley is driving me to the hospital so it looks like I'll be checkin' in right behind you. NCIS night in the ER." Franks patted Gibbs on the shoulder, said a parting word of encouragement to Tony, and stepped out of the ambulance.

Gibbs sighed, feeling damned tired. He still hadn't shaken the pervasive feeling of cold that went right down to his bones, though the pain in his leg and arm seemed to have diminished a bit. Whatever the EMT had given him must have been for pain. He rolled his head to look at Tony, who was lying quietly while Marino kept an eye on him.

There was a commotion going on outside, not far from the ambulance, and getting louder. Gibbs heard some shouting and Fornell giving orders. Gibbs was about to ask what the hell was going on when Fornell appeared in the open doors at the rear of the ambulance, once again. This time his hand clamped around the upper arm of a very distraught-looking Anthony DiNozzo, Sr.

Gibbs swore and muttered, "What the hell?"

"Where's my son? I have the right to see my own son!" Senior was straining against Fornell's grip, seeking his son in the back of the ambulance.

Fornell snapped handcuffs on DiNozzo and fought to get his prisoner out of the way. "You have no rights, DiNozzo. Remember hitting my agent over the head back at the hotel?" he asked sarcastically.

Tony must have recognized his father's voice because he lifted his head and called, "Dad?"

DiNozzo's eyes lit up and he replied loudly, "I'm here, Junior! Look, he's underage. You can't take him without my permission. I'm his father!"

Evander Fields shouldered his way past the men standing at the rear of the ambulance, and climbed aboard. His patience had run out but he looked to Gibbs for confirmation about Tony's age.

Gibbs said firmly, "Tony's eighteen. Now get us the hell outta here." He caught sight of Tony's face, a small smile on Tony's lips as he settled back on the gurney.

"My pleasure," said the EMT.

Turning a deaf ear to the shouts coming from Tony's father, the EMT shut and locked the back doors of the ambulance and gave the driver the okay to leave. "And use the sirens," he ordered.

*** end chapter 48 ***


	49. Promise

Gentle fingers wrapped around his hand, and then something soft and a little moist touched his knuckles. Lips…a kiss, Gibbs thought.

"…and when we have a cookout in the back yard…"

The hushed, one-sided conversation had been going on for some time, Gibbs suspected, as he gradually became aware of his surroundings.

"… I'll be finished with classes at the end of May so we'll have all summer…"

He rolled his head on the pillow and opened his eyes, seeking whoever was talking. It sounded like…sounded like…All he could make out was a vague shape in a murky fog. Unable to remain awake, Gibbs closed his eyes and let the darkness envelop him once again.

"…Ducky says they won't let you out 'til tomorrow…" 

Was that…was that Tony talking? Holding his hand? _Tony_. Gibbs moved his lips but only a small sound escaped.

"…so I told him straight out, nobody makes Jethro Gibbs do anything he doesn't want to do…"

Gibbs blinked to clear his vision and tried to raise his right hand – the one not being held by Tony – to rub at his eyes but it seemed to be tied down. Stubbornly, he lifted his arm a few inches off his stomach and a sharp stab of pain made him quickly change his mind. "Shit!" His gasp started him coughing, and that jarred his arm, which made the pain worse in turn.

"Jethro? You're awake!"

A few shallow breaths and the coughing subsided, and Gibbs slowly opened his eyes once again. This time everything was clearer and he could make out that his right arm was in a sling, and that Tony was leaning over his bed, looking pretty worried. Shit, he was in a hospital. Everything came back in a rush: Senator Harding, gunfire at the boathouse, pulling Tony out of the lake, the fight in the bathroom, being stabbed by Harding. _The fucker stabbed me_ _twice,_ _dammit_. He remembered the rocky ambulance ride, and being wheeled into the ER and fighting with the medical personnel when they took Tony away. Ducky had been there, calming him down, taking care of things.

"Jethro?"

Gibbs cleared his throat and said, "Hey," which was the best he could do at that moment. Damn, his throat was dry.

Without being asked, Tony raised the head of the bed a little and guided a straw to Gibbs' lips. It was water, cool and wonderful and such a relief. When he was finished, Gibbs gave a nod of thanks.

Tony put the cup on a rolling table then returned to his post at Gibbs' bedside. The railing had been lowered on the left side of the bed; Tony sat on the edge of the mattress and took hold of Gibbs' hand again, carefully avoiding a bunch of wires sprouting from beneath Gibbs' hospital gown. Gibbs didn't like the looks of all the equipment, but apart from the two knife wounds there didn't appear to be any significant damage.

A quick look around told Gibbs that he was in a standard hospital room, and the other bed was empty but rumpled as if it had vacated it in a hurry. It was dark outside and he wondered if this was the same night or if he'd lost a day. Gibbs asked, "What's the time?"

"Just after three. Sunday night…well, Monday morning by now.

Gibbs turned his attention to Tony and gave him a once-over. In the low light emanating from a reading lamp above the bed, the purple bruises on the side of Tony's face contrasted vividly with his pale skin. There was a bandage wrapped around his forehead, holding a gauze pad in place above his left ear, and both of his wrists were wrapped in pristine white bandages. The good news was that Tony appeared to have no problem moving around and he wasn't shivering like he had been earlier, though he had a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. Someone had provided him with gray sweatpants and an oversized sweatshirt. Oh yeah, that was Fornell. "You all right, Tony? Still cold?"

"A little." Tony pulled the edges of the blanket tighter around him with one hand but he smiled as if to say it was nothing. He seemed loathe to release Gibbs' hand and squeezed it gently every now and then as if to remind Gibbs that he was still present. "They warmed me up when we first got here."

Gibbs shifted his hips with the intention of sitting up, which wasn't going to be easy with one arm strapped to his chest. Another jolt of pain hit him, this time in his right leg, at a point halfway between his hip and knee, and that plan came to a screeching halt. He fell back, swearing and panting. Tony clutched his hand and looked at him with his brow furrowed with worry, so Gibbs swallowed and said, "It's okay. Just need to move slowly." He looked down at his leg to see how bad it was, but the blanket hid whatever was going on down there.

Tony indicated a monitor near the head of the bed that emitted a gentle beeping sound. "They were worried about your pressure in the ambulance but everything looks okay now," he said knowledgably. Gibbs raised his eyebrows so Tony admitted, "Ducky showed me how to read the monitors. And he made it so it's okay for me to be in here with you." Tony glanced over at the other bed and rubbed one of his eyebrows.

"I'm glad you were here when I woke up." Gibbs freed his hand from Tony's limpet-like hold so he could stroke Tony's hair. The fine strands were soft and silky between his fingers. Tony looked like a kid who'd just woken up, with his hair sticking up, going in all directions above the bandage that was wrapped around his head. "You been causing trouble? What'd you do?"

"Nothing." Tony's attempt to appear nonchalant failed under Gibbs' scrutiny. "Well, they put me in a room way at the end of the hall, Jethro," he complained. "But after they caught me sneaking in here a couple of times, I guess they decided it would be easier if they just let me have that bed." He reached up and took possession of Gibbs' hand, kissing his palm and breathing into it with his eyes closed. "I need to be in here, with you."

Gibbs understood that need to be close, all too well. He'd felt the same way about Tony since the moment they'd met. It felt wrong to be apart, as if he was missing something, something important, a better part of himself. He narrowed his eyes and asked, with mock displeasure, "You been watching over me?"

"Of course," Tony replied with a slight snort. "'Won't you tell him please to put on some speed, follow my lead,'" he said. Then, with a wistful smile he sang softly, "'Oh how I need…someone to watch…over me.'"

Gibbs let his hand slide down Tony's arm, settling on his hand and giving it a loving squeeze. He inspected the bandage, wrapped around Tony's head. He wondered if the laceration he'd seen earlier had been made by the senator's big class ring, when Harding had struck Tony for being out of line. Not that Gibbs was going to ask Tony, or bring up the dead man's name; Tony didn't need to even think about Harding, certainly not tonight. "They shave your head around the cut?"

Tony nodded and lowered his eyes. "Clipped my hair off."

Gibbs guessed that Tony was upset over more than just having a bit of hair removed. Being drugged and hurt by a man you'd hated for years would have left invisible marks on him, in addition to the more obvious cuts and bruises, and it would take a long time for them to heal. "I'm sorry, Tony," said Gibbs, meaning for more than having his hair clipped.

Looking unhappy, Tony said quietly, "It was just a few stitches." He went to touch the place where he'd been injured but apparently thought better of it. "I'll have to cut the other side so it matches." Tony's face lit up all of a sudden. "I can get a Marine haircut, shaved sides and buzzed on top!"

Gibbs snorted and shook his head. "Uh, no you don't. You leave your hair alone, Tony." Their eyes met and Gibbs added, "I like you just as you are." Seeing Tony smile and blush a little had the power to make Gibbs feel better than any amount of medicine could ever do. He ran his fingers lightly over the bandage on one of Tony's wrists, where it covered the tender skin that the Senator's heavy leather cuffs had chafed, and he wished that Harding was still alive so he could have the chance to kill the bastard all over again.

Tony's sweatshirt was loose at the neck, exposing the spot where Gibbs had bitten Tony, marked him during a passionate bout of lovemaking just a couple of nights ago. The evidence of Gibbs' brutality was now covered with a fresh dressing. He could just imagine the ER doctor trying to determine, for the police report, which of Tony's marks and bruises were recent and which Tony had sustained earlier. Apart from Gibbs' love bites there were shadowy bruises on his neck and ribs that had been inflicted by Tony's own father when he'd forced Tony out of his car, and told him to seduce Gibbs.

"I like you, too, Jethro," said Tony, his warm tone suggesting his feelings ran a lot hotter than mere liking.

"You should be in bed," Gibbs said gruffly, swamped with guilt and hating that Tony seemed to be caught in a never-ending cycle of men taking advantage of him, hurting him in both body and spirit.

Tony's expression changed from a bright, expectant smile to something a hell of a lot more fragile. He averted his eyes to stare at Gibbs' bandaged arm as if it were terribly interesting. It only took a few seconds for Tony's features to settle into a mask, unfeeling and cool, but apparently it took too much effort to maintain the stiff, uncaring pose. The vulnerable look returned, with slightly slumped shoulders and eyes that flickered with unspoken pain when they appealed to Gibbs for help.

Gibbs felt a rush of emotion, a need to comfort and protect Tony that was so strong it made his heart ache. He reached out with his good arm and gathered Tony to him, saying in a low, rough voice, "Come here." He pulled Tony close and when Tony clung to him and buried his face in his neck, Gibbs inhaled his scent, soap and antiseptic, a hint of coffee, and the underlying aroma that Gibbs instantly recognized as being pure Tony. "I'm sorry, so sorry," Gibbs apologized, not regretting for one moment that those words passed his lips.

Tony didn't say anything, but his breathing was a little ragged, and Gibbs suspected Tony might be crying, so he murmured, "It's all right. It's all right. I've got you." He kept on offering those words of comfort while he rubbed Tony's back and kissed his hair, and wondered how he could sound so confident when he didn't have a clue as to how they were going to sort things out.

Being a practical man, he was used to organizing and planning, and following a straight line to its conclusion, but Gibbs felt as though he was sailing in uncharted waters in the dark, and without any running lights. Tony would need a few days to recover, and he'd have to give a statement about his part in the operation but there would be support from NCIS during that period. That much was certain, but after that? Under normal circumstances, Tony would go back to college; Gibbs would return to work, on desk duty until he was fit again. Would that mark end of their affair? Would they go their separate ways, divided by geography and the differences in their ages?

But there was little about this situation that was normal.

Gibbs still couldn’t fathom how it was that it felt so right to have Tony in his arms. He wanted to have a future with Tony, he _expected_ it, and he swore that he wasn't going to waste any damned time questioning if their relationship was smart or right, or even sane, which he suspected it wasn't. All he knew was that they seemed to be made for each other, despite – or perhaps because of – their differences. His feelings, his love for Tony, and Tony's love for him in return was strong and undeniable. That was never in question; it wasn't the problem. The problem was how were they going to progress from this point forward?

Tony moved a little and at first Gibbs thought that Tony was going to leave his bed, but instead he changed position so he was lying next to Gibbs rather than half on top of him. Tony sighed and Gibbs looked down at him. From that angle he could see Tony's long eyelashes resting on his cheeks, his tongue slipping out to moisten his dry lips. Gibbs carefully brushed a few strands of Tony's hair off his face, careful to avoid touching the bandage that encircled his head. "You okay?"

"Mmmm."

"Headache?"

"Not really. Hurts where they stitched me up."

Gibbs was surprised that a nurse hadn't been in to check on them, but of course they'd be able to monitor the patients' vitals from the nurses' station, and at this time of night would probably be lightly staffed. He wondered about Mike Franks, and how he was getting on, and why Ducky hadn't been around. Maybe he had, when he'd been out of it, earlier. Gibbs remembered Ducky being present when he and Tony had arrived at the hospital, and how he'd asked Ducky to stay with Tony. He didn't remember much more. "Did Dr. Mallard keep an eye on you?"

Tony nodded. "Ducky," he murmured into Gibbs' collarbone, where his skin was exposed above the hospital gown. "I was so scared," Tony admitted, his mouth moving against Gibbs' skin.

"It's all over now," Gibbs assured him.

"I thought he'd killed you, and there was so much blood all over the bathroom floor, and they kept asking me questions and I don't know what I told them but Fornell took me aside and got me some clean clothes. And when we got here they wouldn’t let me be with you. They took you away and I was afraid I'd never see you again."

"Easy, easy there. Take a breath." Gibbs hugged Tony and said gently, "You're safe now. I've got ya." It was strange that Tony hadn't mentioned being scared during the time he'd spent in the limo with Harding and Alonzo Torres. Personally, Gibbs' heart raced just thinking about being in close confines with those two men, so he could imagine how frightened Tony must have been. But, Gibbs thought, Tony had been under the influence of the Rohypnol and it was possible that he didn't remember what went on during the limo ride; Tony had been drugged and abused, and forced to give Harding a blow job. Gibbs had to take a deep breath to calm himself down. If only they could both forget the whole damned thing, everything would be so much simpler.

Tony must have felt the change in Gibbs. He raised his head just enough to look Gibbs in the eye. "I was sort of out of it, but I know that he was going to kill that other boy, and if you hadn't come when you did, it would have been bad…really bad."

"I wish to hell we'd gotten there sooner, Tony." Gibbs cupped his hand to Tony's face and said, "We searched the whole damned place and it wasn't until we figured out what you meant about Sabrina, and saw Briggs coming out of the stables that…The whole team worked really hard to find you, Tony." He didn't want to think what would have happened if they hadn't spotted Briggs and discovered the dungeon hidden underneath the stables.

Tony dropped his cheek to Gibbs' chest and he whispered, "I want to go home."

"I know you do. So do I. We should be out of here tomorrow." After a while Tony grew heavy in his arms and Gibbs' left arm began to ache from trying to prevent Tony from falling off the hospital bed. One of the young man's legs was hanging off the bed and his position seemed a bit precarious. Even though he didn't want to disturb Tony, they had to rearrange themselves if they were to lie in his bed together much longer. God knows what the nurse was going to think if she walked in and found them like this, though Gibbs was almost too spent to care. He prompted, "Tony. Sit up and let's get more comfortable."

"I am comfortable," Tony murmured into Gibbs' chest and settled against him as if he was planning on sleeping there for what remained of the night. Suddenly Tony pushed himself up and looked at Gibbs with a startled expression. "Oh, shit, am I hurting you? What was I thinking? I'm sorry! You should have said something." He disentangled himself from Gibbs and the wires he'd inadvertently been lying on, and slipped off the bed.

"Hey, hey, it's okay. You didn't hurt me," Gibbs assured him. One of the machines had started beeping insistently the moment Tony had moved off Gibbs' bed, and just as Gibbs craned his neck to find out what the heck the noise was about, the door opened and a nurse entered.

As soon as she saw that Gibbs was awake and alert, and wasn't in any distress, she muted the alarm. "Bet you a wire's been disconnected. Happens all the time," she assured Gibbs. Discovering a loose wire, which apparently Tony had accidentally dislodged, she reconnected it and then checked Gibbs' bandages. Gibbs briefly caught sight of his right thigh, wrapped in heavy dressing, before the nurse flipped the sheet and blanket back in place.

She asked him how he was doing and if he needed anything for pain. When Gibbs said no, she cast a disbelieving look at him. "Dr. Winter put in an order for pain meds, so you don't have to be all brave with me if you're hurting, Agent Gibbs." She straightened Gibbs' blanket and glanced at Tony, who was standing at the foot of the bed. "And you, young man…you know where you're supposed to be?"

"I was just taking care of Jethro…I mean, Agent Gibbs, ma'am." Tony gave her one of his smiles, the bright, charming kind that was designed to melt even the hardest of hearts.

The nurse shook her head but the corner of her mouth twitched in response. "You know the doctor said you could stay in here only if you remained in bed _and_ if you didn't disturb the other patient. Dr. Winter wouldn’t have agreed at all if your Dr. Mallard hadn't vouched for you. I'm sure you don't want Dr. Mallard to find out you've gone back on your word."

"No, ma'am. I'm going. I'm gone." Tony quickly moved to his bed and climbed in. He pulled his blanket high around his shoulders and lay down, keeping an eye on Gibbs.

Gibbs decided it was time to put in a word for Tony. "He wasn't disturbing me…" He peered at the nurse's ID. "…Shauna."

The nurse made sure that the IV in Gibbs' arm was still in place and asked patiently, "Would you like something to ease the pain?"

Hell, Gibbs knew it was going to be a long day, what with answering questions and making a statement, and probably dealing with the FBI, too. He was going to need at least a couple of hours of undisturbed sleep before he met with his superiors and, if he knew Director Morrow at all, he'd be here at the crack of dawn. It was going to be tough to get any rest the way his leg was throbbing. Gibbs gave in with a sigh and said, "Yeah, all right."

"Good idea," Shauna said with a smile.

She turned to Tony and asked, "I thought you had an IV going, Mr. DiNozzo. You want to tell me how you happened to lose it?"

Tony looked at the nurse with an innocent expression. "IV? Um…I'm better now. Don't need it. I'm nice and toasty and feeling fine. And it's Tony." When confronted by the nurse's unrelenting glare he said in a small voice, "I'm fine. Really."

"Hmmm. Let me take a quick look at you, Tony, and then you get some shut-eye." Shauna checked Tony out and reinserted an IV into his arm, despite Tony's insistence that he didn't need it. The nurse said sternly, "The Rohypnol is pretty much eliminated from your system by now, but when you came in your core temperature was still pretty low. Dr. Winter gave orders for you keep this in until he sees you in the morning. I'm surprised you haven't fallen asleep by now. If you need anything, you press that call button, okay?" Tony agreed without enthusiasm and Shauna said she'd be right back.

The nurse returned, not with the medication for Gibbs, but with Dr. Mallard. "They're all yours, doctor, but watch out for the little one." She winked at Tony and left them alone.

"Hey, who's she calling little?" Tony asked.

"Good evening, or should I say good morning, gentlemen." Ducky looked from one man to the other, and then approached Gibbs, a syringe in hand. "I believe this has your name on it, Jethro."

"Since when do you give out shots, Duck?"

"I have privileges at more than one hospital, Jethro, and Dr. Winter and I go a good way back. May I?" Only after Gibbs nodded did Ducky administer the medication into Gibbs' IV. "When we first met at a symposium on zoonotic diseases to discuss infections such as the plague…" The ME then turned to observe Tony, who propped himself up one elbow to observe, and said mildly, "You appear to be feeling much better than the last time I saw you, Anthony."

"I'm doing good," was Tony's reply.

Gibbs noticed that Tony didn't correct Ducky when he called him Anthony, although he kept telling everyone to call him Tony. In an undertone, Gibbs asked, "Is he really all right?"

"You know I can't discuss–"

Tony cut in, saying, "It's okay, Dr. Mallard. Jethro's the closest thing I have to family right now. Guess both of you are."

Ducky quickly hid his surprise but Gibbs could see the ME was both touched and concerned about Tony's admission. "I must say that it is an honor," Ducky said. "But you have only known me for a couple of days, Anthony, and trust is something to be earned over a period of time. 'Trust the instinct to the end, though you can render no reason.' Emerson, a wise man."

Tony lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "I trusted Jethro from the first moment I met him. And he trusts you. I just know what I feel."

"Then I shall just say that I am most pleased to be part of your family," Ducky said with a slight inclination of his head. To Gibbs, he said, "I believe that, with a goodly amount of rest, Anthony should recover without any repercussions. However," he said, turning towards Tony to include him in the conversation. "As I discussed with him earlier, Anthony could benefit with some counseling. Just someone to talk things over with, a neutral party. I find it is often easier to talk over one's troubles with a stranger, which is why I love long train trips."

It was obvious that Tony had already discussed the subject with the ME, and though he wore a slightly stubborn expression, Gibbs was pretty sure that Tony had given in and had agreed to seek counseling. Talking to shrinks wasn't Gibbs' kind of thing, but he was relieved that Tony was taking Ducky's advice to heart.

Gibbs asked Ducky, "How's Franks?"

"Ah, well, Special Agent Franks had the bullet wound to his leg attended to, and his son came to take him home. You were sleeping at the time so he asked me to tell you he will return in the morning to protect you from the ravaging wolves. I find it quite extraordinary that he was able to walk on it at all, but Mike Franks possesses a considerable amount of what my first CO liked to call 'grit.' Apparently, having grit is a requirement of all NCIS special agents." Ducky looked pointedly at Gibbs' leg and said, "And as for you, my dear boy, it appears that the medic did a fine job in the field patching up that nicked artery in your leg. You're lucky, in that you only needed a local anesthetic for the suturing of your wounds. It seems as though the pain medication they administered in the ER knocked you out – well, that and the loss of blood. Are you feeling any pain at present?"

With Ducky peering at him as if he was expecting Gibbs to lie about how much he was hurting, Gibbs told him the truth. "Arm was hurting like a bitch, but it's already better," he said, feeling sleepy from the shot that Ducky had given him. A glance towards Tony's bed told Gibbs that the young man was lying down but listening intently to his every word. "My thigh aches when I move it, but I've had worse."

Ducky nodded. "Ah yes, your knee."

A knife wound was nothing compared to having his knee torn apart by shrapnel during Desert Storm. That still hurt at times, but at least he still had his leg. Gibbs was going to make a wry comment but he started coughing, and by the time the bout had subsided, both Ducky and Tony were at his bedside, Tony dragging his IV pole with him. Ducky raised the head of the bed a more few inches, which offered Gibbs some relief. Tony was there, offering Gibbs comfort by holding his hand and Ducky, God bless him, didn't even raise an eyebrow.

"You, my dear boy," said Ducky, "may be developing aspiration pneumonia. We'll do some more tests in the morning."

"Just swallowed some of the lake, is all," Gibbs said, brushing it off.

"You may very well make out that these injuries are nothing, but together they may be enough to confine you to this hospital bed for several days." Before Gibbs could complain, Ducky said, "You lost a great deal of blood, Jethro, and until both Dr. Winter and I are satisfied that you are no longer in danger, you shall remain hospitalized. You are going to remain here through tomorrow, at the very least."

Gibbs sighed and looked up at Tony. He brought Tony's hand up to his chest and smiled at him. He figured it was the meds that made him care less what anyone thought. "What about Tony? You keeping him here, too?"

"I'll stay with you for as long as you need me," Tony assured him.

Ducky smiled and said, "Anthony's injuries are less severe, though he suffered from mild hypothermia as well as some cuts and bruises. I hear that you lost your intravenous line again." He arched an eyebrow and Tony appeared a little guilty.

"Disconnects real easily, Doc."

"Hmmm. Fancy that."

Gibbs made a motion with his chin and said, "Bed," and Tony did as he was directed, rolling his eyes. Turning back to Ducky, Gibbs asked, "He really okay?"

"Mostly abrasions and small lacerations. No concussion from the head wound. There were some small circular burns as well," he said, his anger tempered yet apparent. "Probably an automobile lighter."

"Damn that fucker," Gibbs swore.

Ducky hesitated for a second and then said, "Anthony refused to be examined as thoroughly as the emergency room physician would have liked. I was there to calm him down; at first I thought that Anthony's agitation was because of the trauma of being held captive and drugged against his will. But I believe that there is another factor at play. Perhaps there is something that you feel you can tell me, that might assist us in determining the course of his care?"

Shit, they thought he'd been raped and Tony wouldn't let them examine him. Gibbs rubbed his hand over his face, and before he could figure out what to tell Ducky, Tony said, "I'll explain, Dr. Mallard."

Ducky went to Tony's side and in a matter-of-fact voice, Tony explained to the ME about his father's practice of having him wear a chastity belt as a device to protect him from being used. "It was my idea to wear it during that meeting at the hotel. Better safe than sorry, I guess. You see, I knew what the senator was like." He looked Ducky in the eye and said, "What he was really like. My father knew, too, and I know that he's not the best dad in the world–"

Gibbs snorted so Tony amended, "Okay, he's the worst dad in the world, but he wouldn't want me to get hurt. Not really." He looked from Ducky to Gibbs and said, "Dad thought that Harding and Torres were going to show up at the hotel. He didn't know that I decided, on my own, to call Harding to come pick me up." Tony threw himself back down on his bed and rubbed his face. "I know it was stupid but…I had my reasons, good reasons."

Gibbs shook his head, wishing he had the energy to continue the discussion, but he could feel that he was about to crash at any moment. "Not worth the risk, Tony."

"You will always be worth the risk, Jethro," Tony insisted.

Ducky held up his hands to prevent both men from continuing their quarrel. "I suggest that you both sleep, and tomorrow I will return and we can talk some more, if you feel up to it." He turned to Gibbs and said, "As Anthony is most likely to be released prior to you, perhaps he would consider staying at my house until you are fit to leave, Jethro. Mother and I have a young medical student rooming with us, a fine young man named Gerald Jackson. So Anthony would have company when I am at work." He patted Gibbs' arm and said, "You sleep and I'll be back in a few hours."

After Ducky left, Gibbs lay there in a state of near-sleep, feeling completely out of it. He had no idea how much time passed, though it couldn't have been very long, before he felt the railing of his bed being lowered and a warm, solid body sidling up to him. Gibbs grunted and shifted a little, turning slightly on his side, giving Tony some more room. With a sigh, Tony settled against him, and Gibbs turned his head so their mouths met; he lost himself in the soft exchange of a kiss that was languid and sweet and so full of promise that, for a moment, he truly believed that everything would be all right.

As he drifted off to sleep, Gibbs remembered what he'd heard when he'd awoken in the hospital bed. He mumbled, "Hey. Who says we're having a cookout at my place?" He opened his eyes to look at Tony, only to find that Tony was already asleep with a small smile on his face.

*** end chapter 49 *** 


	50. Half-light

Even before he was fully awake, Gibbs became aware that Tony was no longer in bed with him, and he missed his young lover's warm body, the feel, the smell, the peace of mind at having Tony at his side. Gibbs groaned and slowly opened his eyes, assessing his injuries before he made any rash moves. His forearm hurt more than his thigh did but he could wiggle his fingers and toes, and he expected to make a full recovery. Gibbs recalled someone saying he'd lost a lot of blood and he felt weaker than he liked to admit but even that wasn't enough to worry him. At least he hadn't bled to death on the floor of Harding's bathroom after the fucker had stabbed him. If Tony hadn't been there to stop the bleeding…

Turning his head on the pillow, Gibbs looked towards the other bed, expecting to see Tony, only to find Fornell sitting there, grinning at him over the top of the early edition. Gibbs raised his head and looked around but Tony was nowhere in sight. He struggled left-handed with the bed's controls, and once he was upright Fornell handed him a large cup of steaming black coffee.

It was obvious that the FBI agent hadn't been to bed, what with his rumpled suit and dark circles under his eyes, but he smiled crookedly and said, "Figured you'd need that. The coffee from the machine down the hall looks and tastes like sludge but I found a decent coffee shop down the street."

Gibbs grunted his thanks and greedily drank the coffee. It was hot and rich and damned good, thank God, because he was useless without his morning jolt of caffeine. Only when the cup was half empty did Gibbs heave a contented sigh.

"Hit the spot?"

With a nod, Gibbs gave the FBI agent a heartfelt, "Oh, yeah."

"Brought you some Danish, too." Fornell tossed a white paper bag speckled with grease spots on a rolling table and pushed it over Gibbs' bed.

"Thanks. Where's Tony?"

Fornell folded his newspaper and laid it aside. "Taking a shower. He talked a pretty nurse's aide into helping him when they refused to let him shower on his own. Tony wouldn’t let the male attendant anywhere near him, but apparently he didn't think the young lady posed any threat. They've only been in there a few minutes."

Gibbs stared at the closed bathroom door, wondering how it was he'd managed to sleep through all of that. Everything was quiet for a minute and then he heard water running when the shower was turned on. Damn, it should be him in there, helping Tony out, and instead he was stuck in a hospital bed with his right arm and leg wrapped up like a mummy, and with needles and wires and shit stuck all over him.

It was no wonder Tony had refused to let a man accompany him into the bathroom while he washed up – it had only been a few hours since they'd both come close to being killed. The memory of the fight in Harding's bathroom suddenly hit Gibbs hard – the smell of spilled blood in his nostrils, and the taste of it on his tongue, metallic and unpleasant. He could feel his fingers digging into Harding's mouth, clutching the back of his skull, and then Gibbs twisted the man's head with a sudden, violent wrench, and the bastard's neck broke with a sickening crack. There was a loud rushing noise in Gibbs' ears and his heart was pounding so hard it was about to burst out of his chest and –

"Gibbs. Hey Gibbs!"

Gibbs jerked away from the hand on his shoulder and looked wildly around the room. For a couple of seconds he had no clue where he was but once Fornell came into focus and he took a shaky breath. Fornell removed his hand but stayed where he was. Gibbs couldn’t look at him, he was too busy staring at his hands, expecting to see them slick with blood. It was disconcerting to find that his hands were both clean, with one arm resting on his chest in a sling. He stared at his immobilized arm and muttered, "This isn't right." He'd just killed Harding with his bare hands. He'd…

Fornell leaned forward, looking at him uncertainly. "Hey. You with me?"

"What? Yeah." Gibbs licked his lips and wondered what he'd missed. He backhanded his mouth and looked dumbly at a smear of blood on his skin. He was sweating like crazy and was breathing sort of hard. "I'm fine," he said impatiently, wishing that Fornell wasn't looking him so closely.

Just about every day during the course of his job as an investigator in the major crimes unit, Gibbs witnessed killings and violent crimes, and their aftermath, just as he'd seen his share of death during his deployment as a Marine. Still, last night's sudden spike of violence hit him hard. There was something about it that seemed off balance, and it wasn't just because Harding had been a twisted son-of-a-bitch serial killer who got his rocks off suffocating his victims.

Maybe if he alone had taken Harding down it would feel different, if Tony hadn't been an active participant. Tony's presence had changed the dynamics of the situation, had changed Gibbs' role from that of a soldier to a protector. "It was different, with Tony being right there," Gibbs confessed. He spoke quietly, not looking at Fornell but aware that the man's eyes were on him. "I had to think about where he was all the time, fight for him, and I was…I was afraid that even my best wasn't going to be enough to protect him, keep him alive. He shouldn't have been there, shouldn't have seen me kill…"

Tony shouldn't have picked up Gibbs' belt-knife and used it on Harding, either, but he had. Tony had exacted his ounce of revenge, and he was going to pay the price for his action. Maybe not legally, but Gibbs knew the bad memories would stick with Tony. He'd never be able to shake the ramifications of being overcome with hate and attacking another human being in anger.

Fornell said sympathetically, "It'll take a while, but Tony's a survivor. You both are."

After a moment, Gibbs nodded. "I know, but I've been through this before. I've been trained for this, and he hasn't."

"He'll be able to cope with it, Gibbs, if you help him."

Gibbs sighed and his exhalation turned into a cough, though it was nothing like as bad as it had been last night. He wondered when his doctor was going to make an appearance. Last night Ducky had mentioned something about more tests and Gibbs was itching to get the hell out of the hospital. Peering through the open door to the hallway at the activity out there – mostly hospital staff going about their morning duties – Gibbs asked Fornell, "See anyone who looks like he might be my doctor?"

"Your doc came by while you were asleep." Fornell chuckled at Gibbs' surprised expression. "Dr. Winter, right? He looked Tony over and said he could take a shower, and then he checked out all those machines you're attached to. The doc said he'd come back at the end of his rounds, in an hour or so." Glancing at his watch, Fornell said, "It's seven-thirty now, so we have thirty minutes for me to bring you up to speed."

Gibbs started with a question about something that had been bothering him. "Why did Senior turn up at Harding's estate instead of making a run for it?" Even if the FBI had impounded Senior's jet, Gibbs wouldn’t put it past Tony's father to find a way out of the country.

Fornell scratched his jaw and looked uneasy. "Don’t know. All Senior would say was that he wanted to see his old pal Harding. Oh, and that you were kidnapping his son."

"Haven't you guys interrogated him yet?" Gibbs asked, ignoring the kidnapping accusation.

"Sure, but…Look, he's assisting in our investigation into mob control of the Eastern seaboard," Fornell said, with a hint of apology in his tone.

Pissed off at being given such a lame explanation, Gibbs demanded, "What? That's the best you can do? You giving me the same crap you send out in your official press release, _Tobias_?"

"Well, yeah, _Jethro_." Fornell cracked his neck and then said, "All right, but you didn't hear this from me. We're offering DiNozzo Sr. a place in the witness protection program in return for evidence that'll help us nail Alonzo Torres. Ever since we brought him in on Friday, Senior has been acting like a stubborn prick and hasn't given us shit to use against Torres. He doesn't seem to understand that from the moment we took him into custody, his life has pretty much been in the crapper. For starters, Torres is gonna be out for revenge now he knows that Senior double-crossed him over the weapons deal. I mean, who's going to believe that Senior's kept his mouth shut while he's in our custody? He might as well spill everything he knows while the offer's still on the table. Problem is, he keeps saying he isn't interested. No deal. Doesn't seem to care that we have him on charges of assaulting a federal officer, international weapons trafficking, and aiding a mob boss to buy a US senator. It's like he thinks he's immune or something."

"Your agent…uh…" Gibbs couldn’t recall the young agent's name who'd been left in charge of Senior back at the hotel, the one who Senior bashed over the head in order to escape. "He's okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. Agent Mallory has a mild concussion. He'll be fine. We added assault to the charges against Senior." Fornell shook his head in disgust. "Made no difference; Senior didn't turn a hair. He expects his lawyers to get him out of the mess he's in because they're the best that money can buy. A whole team of them turned up at three in the morning, for chrissake."

"What're you saying? You Feebs can't make any of the charges stick? Then hand him over to NCIS. We'll make him talk." Gibbs could hear the beeps from one of the monitors above his head accelerate, and it took a few seconds for it to sink in that his anger and frustration were literally on display.

Fornell insisted, "We're working on it! His lawyers are doing everything they can to get him free, trying to get him released on house arrest, and you know as well as I do that if they get him out, he'll simply vanish within a few hours. Catch a private flight to Abu Dhabi or wherever."

"So lock him up and lose the damned key, Fornell! You don't need him to bring down Alonzo Torres. Torres admitted his involvement in buying heavy weapons to be shipped to his Colombian friends, and his plan to provide illegal funds to finance Harding's run for the presidency. We have the recording from the limo."

Fornell held a hand out to stop Gibbs' protest. "First off, we're not going to let Senior go, Gibbs. I understand he also confessed to you that he helped Senator Harding dispose of a body in the Potomac."

"Shit, you were listening in," Gibbs accused, even if he wasn't really surprised that Fornell had recorded his talk with Tony's father in the hotel room.

Not appearing at all apologetic, Fornell said, "Wha'd'ya expect, Gibbs? We can also prove that Senior double-crossed his partners on the weapons deal and sold them to the Peruvians. He'll talk, believe me, and Alonzo Torres will never see the light of day again if the FBI has anything to do with it."

Gibbs sensed that Fornell was holding something back. Narrowing his eyes, he asked, "And…what else?"

Fornell held out for almost half a minute under Gibbs' scrutiny, but he eventually muttered, "Okay…there's this thing with the money."

"The money?"

"DiNozzo's been moving his funds to offshore accounts in small amounts for the past couple of months. Nothing illegal, just questionable practices."

"So what's the problem?"

"Until two days ago DiNozzo Sr. had several million dollars stashed in a New York bank under his company's name. Now there's nothing left, and no assets we can seize. The jet is leased. Even the estate on Long Island isn't DiNozzo Sr.'s. Turns out he's been living there courtesy of his in-laws, who live overseas."

Gibbs remembered the name Paddington listed as the owner of the estate in Long Island: Tony's mother's family. "Where'd his money go?"

Fornell sighed. "The funds were transferred to Zurich on Friday morning, and then moved to Singapore, then Malta and…okay, we lost track of the money. It might have been moved to the Caymans."

"Might have?" The FBI had less leverage over DiNozzo Sr. if they didn't have his money within reach, but Gibbs had always thought they were somewhat over-zealous about seizing property supposedly connected to criminal activity.

"Yeah. We have people working on it, our best forensic accountants. They'll find it."

"How much did you say was missing?" Gibbs had a pretty strong notion that Fornell was going to say ten million. What was it that Tony had said to Senator Harding when he was in the limo?

_"Dad got three million from you assholes and another four from that guy from Peru, and he's getting a cut from the sale of the freighter as well."_

Fornell reluctantly conceded, "A cool ten million. The weird thing is, when we grilled DiNozzo about where he'd hidden the money…for a minute there I thought he was going to pass out or have a stroke or something. He said he didn't know anything about the money being missing. Said it was his, anyway. He'd earned it, paid his taxes, we can't seize it. Yeah, whatever. Of course that was at three this morning and he might have a different story when he's interrogated today." Fornell looked at his watch. "Speaking of which, I've gotta go soon."

From the bathroom came the sound of Tony's laughter. Gibbs stared at the closed door, wondering how Tony was able to laugh after everything he'd been through. The water turned off and Gibbs could make out the nurse's aide talking, giving Tony instructions of some kind.

Gibbs recalled Tony proudly telling him how he had stashed his earnings in the Caymans while sitting at the kitchen table in his house. Tony had said that he knew all about his father's business dealings, and described how he'd blackmailed Senior into paying for his college education. Tony was clever. He was a survivor. And he'd most likely been the one to send the FBI that envelope containing just enough incriminating evidence to get the ball rolling with their investigation into the criminal activities of DiNozzo and his two pals, Harding and Torres.

Gibbs wasn't entirely sure why Tony would hand his father, who he professed to love, over to the FBI. It was possible that Tony had believed that an investigation into his father would reveal his connection to Senator Harding, and thus would expose the senator's dirty dealings. Two birds with one stone, three if you counted Torres, but would Tony sacrifice his own father in order to get revenge on Harding? That was something that Gibbs didn't know. Both Harding and Senior seemed equally depraved in his eyes after everything they'd done to Tony over the years.

Tony had overheard his dad talking about helping Sir get rid of a body. Even if Tony hadn't known Sir's real name at the time, he had first-hand knowledge of Harding's brutality and knew what the man was capable of. Tony was also aware that Senior was involved in shady deals with Torres, getting in deeper with the mob. That may have been enough for Tony to turn his father in. Bring down one of the triumvirate and they'd all fall.

When Gibbs had questioned Tony earlier as to whether he'd intended, right from the start, to get close to Senator Harding so he could murder him, Tony had denied it vehemently. Yes, Tony had hated Sir, and had wanted to prevent him from hurting any more young men, but Tony had never intended to take matters into his own hands, despite fantasizing about killing the man. Gibbs had believed Tony at the time, and now he had to trust that it had not been premeditated when Tony had knifed his tormenter. The chance had presented itself and Tony had taken it.

Gibbs was brought back to the present when an aide, this time an older woman, came in bearing two breakfast trays. She smiled pleasantly and set the food for Gibbs and Tony on the rolling tables before leaving. Gibbs looked at the plastic-covered food without much interest, and finished the coffee that Fornell had brought him.

Now he had to take a leak; there was a urinal within reach but Gibbs really didn't want to use it with Fornell sitting there watching him. He figured he would drag himself to the bathroom once Tony was finished in there. Uncomfortable, Gibbs adjusted his position in the bed, trying to hide a wince from a pain that shot up his thigh. He needed to start walking on it if he intended to get out of the hospital anytime soon.

"You planning on going somewhere?" asked Fornell, standing.

"I want to get over to the Navy Yard. See how the case is proceeding." With his right arm still in a sling it was going to be impossible to use crutches or even a cane. Until the doc checked him out, it was a waiting game, one that Gibbs did not like having to play. He turned to Fornell and asked, "What about Alonzo Torres. You haven't caught him yet?"

Fornell's jaw tightened with annoyance. "Damned idiots lost track of him last night. Don't you worry, Torres will turn up sooner or later and I'll be there, right on his sorry ass, just like I have been for the last couple of years. What's another day or so?" Fornell took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders. "I had a brief meeting with Director Morrow before I came in here, and he says the SecNav was not, and I'm quoting here, 'particularly pleased,' which I translated as meaning that the old man was pissed."

"Sorta expected that."

"My boss isn't pleased, either, keeps talking about priorities being skewed." Fornell gave Gibbs a bright smile. "However, the good news is that we're all in line for commendations for bringing down a serial killer. Apparently that makes better press than telling the world that an NCIS agent snapped the neck of a popular U.S. senator in a bathroom, with a half-naked teenager knifing the psycho in the balls for good measure." He grinned. "Those are my words, not either of our boss's."

"Gee, thanks, Fornell." Gibbs ran his good hand over his face and tried to figure out how many people now knew – or suspected – about his affair with Tony by now.

"They're going to keep Tony's name out of this," Fornell said.

"Well, we did our job, whether Tony was there or not. The MCRT's priority was to find the Lookout Point serial killer, and that's exactly what we did." What the brass did with their findings was not exactly under the team's control. "Let them put whatever spin on it that they want to. All I care about is that we stopped a killer and my people got out of there alive." And not too badly injured, either. After a moment Gibbs added, "Thanks for taking care of Tony, getting him clothes, and…you know, being there for him."

Fornell made a motion with his hand to say it was nothing, but it meant a lot to Gibbs that Fornell had been there for Tony.

"Anyway," said Fornell. "Our bosses duked it out and the FBI is handling the death of Senator Harding, and NCIS gets the serial killer case. That means that your IA and two of my agents are converging on you and Tony in a couple of hours, to get the facts about everything that went down between you and Harding."

Gibbs had been expecting that. He needed to talk to Tony before anyone questioned him, to make sure that he didn't say anything that might incriminate himself, like mentioning he had been raped by Harding as a kid. It wouldn't look good. Gibbs was glad that Franks had been there at the beginning, tagging evidence they found in Harding's dungeon, or else the photos Harding had taken of Tony four years ago would have been logged in. He asked worriedly, "Tony didn't say anything at the scene, did he?"

"No. He was too shook up. Just kept asking about you." Fornell peered at Gibbs, his eyes inquisitive. He was just about to ask a question when the bathroom door opened and Tony came out, dressed in sweatpants, his hair damp and spiky – and without the bandage wrapped around his head – laughing at something the pretty aide had said.

Tony had a towel draped around his neck but he wasn't wearing a shirt, and Gibbs had a really good look at Tony's injuries. The old bruises were there, faded a bit, and the scrape along his ribs was almost gone now. But the new ones – a tapestry of small bruises and small red marks across Tony's neck, chest and arms – were stark and ugly reminders of how Senator Harding had tortured Tony in the limousine, while the NCIS and FBI teams chased after them.

Fornell dropped his newspaper on top of Gibbs' table next to his uneaten meal. "I'll leave you alone now. Be back in a couple of hours." He said goodbye to Tony and left the room.

The aide assisted Tony back to his bed, even though he didn't appear to need any help. Tony kept his gaze on Gibbs, as if drawn to him. Anyone who didn't know Tony might think that he was doing well, and that he was amused by the way the aide fussed over him. But Gibbs could see past the smiles and silly jokes that Tony made, and knew his boy was hurting inside. It was difficult and frustrating for Gibbs because he couldn’t just reach over and take Tony in his arms and let him know he was loved and safe, and that he was there for him, no matter what.

It was several minutes before Tony could convince the aide that he didn't need any assistance with eating. As soon as the aide left, a nurse came in and drew the privacy curtain partway over. She hooked up Tony's IV and began to assess him. Gibbs could see enough through the gap in the curtain to know that the nurse had applied ointment to Tony's burns and covered them with small patches of gauze. She asked Tony some questions and he replied quietly.

Now that the bathroom was free, Gibbs had an urge to urinate that was too strong to ignore any longer. As soon as the nurse had finished taking care of Tony, she set Gibbs up with an aide, a big man who had no problem assisting Gibbs on a very slow trek to the bathroom, with Gibbs limping heavily on his wounded leg. By the time he'd done his business and had a quick one-handed wash and shave, and made the long journey back to his bed, Gibbs was not only tired, but more than willing to swallow a couple of painkillers.

***

He must have zoned out for a while because when he opened his eyes, Tony was sitting on his bed, watching him intently.

Gibbs frowned at the privacy curtain that had been pulled across the room, between the two beds, but Tony smiled and said, "Just in case someone comes barging in."

"Yeah, they tend to do that in hospitals." Gibbs gave Tony a good look-over. He was wearing a sweatshirt again, and even if it covered up all those small wounds, Gibbs knew they were there and once more it hit him how close they'd come to dying at Harding's hand. "What happened to your bandage?" He indicated Tony's head where an adhesive bandage had been applied to the sutured wound above his ear.

"I didn't like being bandaged all around my head. It made me look like one of those Civil War vets in 'Gone with the Wind.' I love that scene when they're feeding the last of their food to the returning soldiers, and Melanie recognizes Ashley, way down the road, and she runs to him. Boy, that was so romantic."

Gibbs smiled and said, "You look good, Tony."

Tony's hand rose to smooth down his freshly washed hair. It seemed to have a mind of its own and several spikes stood up defiantly. "I really need some gel for my hair."

Gibbs ran gentle fingers down Tony's bruised face. "You always look damned good to me. You doing okay?"

Tony nodded and smiled as if embarrassed. "Yeah. Shower helped a lot. Some of the bruises look sorta bad but I'm going to be okay." A strong wave of emotion welled up in Gibbs' heart – relief and love and God knows what else, and it must have shown in his face because Tony's smile crumpled and he settled against Gibbs' chest and murmured, "Love you, Jethro. So damned much."

"I know. I love you, too." He kissed Tony's cheek and then, when Tony raised his face a bit and sought his eyes, their lips met. A small sound escaped from deep in Tony's throat, need and maybe a little bit of uncertainty, and Gibbs was instantly aroused, heat rising to his cheeks. He felt an ache, but it was a good ache, even if he knew he wasn't in a position to do much about it, especially with his one good arm wrapped around Tony's shoulders. Tony smelled of shampoo and when Gibbs kissed him again and explored his lover's mouth with his tongue, he tasted toothpaste and that flavor that was indefinably Tony. They kissed for a while, seeking solace in each other, and finding it enough to simply be close.

Resting his head on Gibbs' chest, Tony's breathing slowed and ran a hand in slow, lazy circles across Gibbs' stomach, the heat of his palm penetrating the thin cotton of the hospital gown. Gibbs stroked Tony's cheek gently, the need to touch his soft skin overwhelming. When Tony's eyes opened and he looked straight at him with his green eyes full of trust, Gibbs knew how deeply he'd fallen in love. They had a lot to get through, but right now all that mattered was that Tony was in his arms, and he was safe, and at that moment he was the world to Gibbs.

*** end chapter 50 ***


	51. Evidence

Tony lay draped over Gibbs's good side, his cheek pressed against the thin cotton hospital gown that covered Gibbs' chest. He was making little grunting sounds in his sleep while thrusting his erection against Gibbs' thigh. It was damned frustrating for Gibbs because Tony was lying on his left arm, pinning it down with his weight, and Gibbs' wounded arm was still immobilized in a sling and pretty much useless. Gibbs groaned, unable reach his own dick, which was reacting to Tony's noises and was in desperate need of attention.

Gibbs was wriggling, trying to get his left arm out from under Tony, when he heard a nurse just outside their room saying, "Mr. Gibbs is your last patient this morning, Dr. Winter. Here's his chart."

Whatever the doctor's response was, Gibbs didn't hear; he was too busy trying to get Tony to wake up and off his bed. "Wake up, Tony! The doctor's on his way in," Gibbs whispered urgently, giving Tony a small shove to get him going. Talk about bad timing.

Tony's eyes flew open in alarm. "Whah? 'Kay. I'm 'wake," he mumbled as he scrambled off the bed and landed on his bare feet. By the time their visitor entered the room and pulled back the privacy curtain, Tony was casually pouring Gibbs a tumbler of water. He looked up with a friendly smile and said, "Hey, Doc."

Gibbs raised his left knee to cover up evidence of his erection, willing it to subside, and accepted the glass Tony handed to him. Sneaking a glance over the rim at Tony's slightly flushed cheeks, he felt a similar heat rise in his own face. Damn, he couldn't wait to get Tony home and lock the doors so they could make love without any further interruption.

Dr. Winter cast a critical eye over Tony, who remained by Gibbs' bedside, and said dryly, "Someone had better invent an IV that has a more secure connection, for the next time you visit us."

Tony inspected the back of his left hand, which bore a couple of marks from earlier IV sites, as if he was surprised that there was no needle inserted into a vein. "Huh. Well, Doc, I wouldn't want to put anyone through a lot of trouble. I mean, you've taken really good care of me – of both of us – but I don't plan on ever coming back here. Nothing personal, you understand," he was quick to add.

Dr. Winter raised one eyebrow. "Hmmm. If you want to be discharged today, I suggest you follow my instructions, Tony, one of which was that you remain in bed."

At the doctor's expectant look, Tony heaved a sigh and retreated to his bed, lying on top of the sheet with his arms behind his head, apparently oblivious to the way his dick was still tenting his sweatpants. Gibbs shook his head and averted his gaze in an attempt to get his own dick to behave.

The doctor introduced himself to Gibbs and said, "You look much better this morning than when you were brought in last night, Agent Gibbs. Your color has improved. Tell you what, let me take a quick look at Tony and then you and I can spend some quality time together."

Gibbs didn't like the sound of that, but he said, "Sure," because it wouldn't do to piss off his doctor. He didn't have a really clear memory of everything that had happened after he was admitted to the ER last night. They'd dosed him with some strong medication that did more than just take the edge off his pain, and he had only a vague recollection that he'd caused a big ruckus when he was wheeled into an examination room and separated from Tony. Gibbs did, however, remember Ducky arriving. The ME had assured Gibbs that he would stay with Tony, that he knew the doctor, that all would be well…but he just had to calm down.

After Tony stripped off his sweatshirt, Dr. Winter gave him a brief examination and expressed his satisfaction with his condition. "The rohypnol is pretty much out of your system by now. Based upon the information you gave us when you were admitted, it appears you may not have ingested a great deal of it. It was diluted in water, wasn't it?"

Tony said hesitantly, "He gave me… I drank from a bottle so I thought it was safe, but he was looking sort of weirdly at me, and I had this feeling something wasn't right…" He lowered his gaze and didn't seem inclined to say anything further, but after picking at the gauze wrapped around his wrists for a minute, Tony met the doctor's eyes and said, "Some of last night is sort of fuzzy and there are some blanks. Like _Total Recall_ without the recall." He joked, "You know that line: 'If I'm not me, then who the hell am I?'"

The doctor pointed out, "That's a normal effect of the drug, Tony. Most likely, if you don't remember it now, it won't come back to you." Then Dr. Winter smiled a bit sheepishly and said, "A man is defined by his actions, not his memory.' Hey, I like Paul Verhoeven movies, even if my wife hates them."

Tony eagerly sat straight and replied, "Oh yeah, you ever see his documentary, _Het Korps Mariniers_? Jethro, you'd like that – it's about the Royal Dutch Marine Corps – but it's really hard to find. My favorite is _Flesh and Blood_ with Rutger Hauer."

Gibbs couldn't find it within him to laugh when he could see the evidence of Harding's cruelty scattered across Tony's torso and arms, wrists, face and head – burns, bruises, cuts. All Tony needed to do was look at those marks and he'd have a damned good idea of what Harding had done to him.

Gibbs sighed. If Tony still didn't remember later on and wanted to know details about what had happened to him, he could fill in the blanks. He sure as hell didn't want to though. How could he possibly find the right words? God, he hoped that Tony didn't remember giving Harding a blowjob soon after he got in the limo. Nobody needed to carry those kinds of memories around with them.

"No sign of hypothermia, so that's good. There's no need for the IV any more, Tony. Not that you've had it connected for more than half the time you've been here," Dr. Winter said with a small smile that softened his chastising words. "I'll write up your discharge papers and you can leave by noon, which I know will make you very happy."

Tony didn't seem at all happy though. It was obvious that he was reluctant to leave Gibbs alone in the hospital. "What about Agent Gibbs, Doc?"

Dr. Winter explained, "Agent Gibbs needs some additional care and I can't let him go quite yet. Do you have somewhere to go until he's released? Someone to take care of you? Perhaps Dr. Mallard…?" The doctor looked towards Gibbs for help.

Gibbs reminded Tony that Ducky was going to pick him up and take him home with him, and that Gerald would be there for company. He'd never met the young medical student who rented a room in Ducky's large house, but Ducky seemed to think that Gerald would be a good distraction for Tony, at least until Gibbs joined them. He assured Tony, "I'll head over there as soon as I get sprung. That'll be soon, right, Doc?"

Dr. Winter made a noncommittal reply and moved to Gibbs' bedside to check him over. He listened to Gibbs' lungs and asked, "Been coughing much?"

"Not enough to notice." Of course, at that moment, Gibbs' body decided to contradict his words and he started hacking away. He was able to suppress the dry coughs long enough to say, "I'm fine." Even Tony was eyeing him askance, so Gibbs swallowed his pride and appealed to the doctor, "Look, I just want to get out of here. I need to get back to work."

Dr. Winter appeared skeptical, and he said firmly, "I've scheduled a few more tests. You lost a lot of blood last night, and we need to make sure your lungs are clear, Agent Gibbs. Otherwise I can't, in good conscience, release you." He indicated the IV bag suspended from a pole near the bed, which was nearly full. "Plus you need to finish that antibiotic before I can sign your release. If the tests come back with good results then…how about tomorrow?"

"How 'bout today?" Gibbs countered.

"Any dizziness when you were on your feet?"

"No," Gibbs said truthfully. He'd been weak and in pain when he'd hobbled, with assistance, to the bathroom, but he hadn't been dizzy. He played his trump card, saying, "I'm going to be staying with Dr. Mallard, and you know him. He'll make me stay in bed while he force-feeds me tea and…whatever kinda crap he thinks is healthy."

Dr. Winter ran a hand over his mouth but Gibbs could swear the man was suppressing laughter. After he cleared his throat, the doctor said, "My shift ends at six tonight. I'll see about letting you loose then, but _only_ if your stats are good. I'm not promising anything," he warned.

Gibbs nodded, satisfied that he'd won a small battle, and it did him good to see that Tony was now smiling as he pulled his sweatshirt back on.

When Gibbs had been lying on Harding's bathroom floor, bleeding like a stuck pig and in considerable pain, he was sure that he was dying, that his life was slipping away. He hated the feeling that everything was beyond his control, which was never more apparent than at that moment. How fucked up and how unfair life could be – he'd only just met Tony and his life held promise for the first time since Shannon and Kelly had died. He'd fought it, that darkness, had tried to claw his way back to the light but in the end he'd blacked out, with his last thoughts being of Tony.

Regaining consciousness in the ambulance had come as a big relief, a really big relief and sort of a surprise. Gibbs had taken the fact that he was still alive as a sign that he'd been given a second chance and should make the most of it. Finding that Tony was alive, seeing him get into the ambulance, had taken a great load off his mind, but it was a while before it sunk in that they still had a long road ahead of them.

Now, sitting in a hospital bed in a brightly lit room on a fine sunny day, all cleaned up and relatively pain-free, Gibbs felt almost detached from the events of the night before. He could see Tony sitting right there, recovering, looking damned good despite his ordeal. The fight with Harding seemed as though it was in the distant past. He knew it would hit him later on – the fact that he'd killed a man with his bare hands. That kind of thing didn't sit well with him, no matter that Harding's death tipped the scales in favor of the good guys for a change. Gibbs would never feel any guilt over what he considered to be a justified killing, but it changed a man once he understood that he had the power to kill, as well as the power _not_ to take another man's life.

"Agent Gibbs, I know that your agency requires you to pass a psych evaluation before you return to field work…"

Gibbs' chin shot up and he glared at the doctor. Damn, he'd been caught zoning out again.

Dr. Winter barely hesitated before continuing, "…but I recommend that you seek counseling prior to that evaluation. Both of you."

Gibbs was angry at the doctor's interference, but his irritation eased when he realized that Ducky was likely to offer exactly the same advice, though Ducky would use a hell of a lot more words to deliver exactly the same message. Having someone poking around in his mind was right at the top of Gibbs' 'will not tolerate any of this crap' list. He could handle a single session with the NCIS-appointed psychologist, pretend that he was undercover and his mission was to provide misinformation, but voluntarily seeking counseling was simply not going to happen. He'd always worked things out on his own. Didn't need any help. Period. And he didn't need to look at Tony to know that he wasn't going to get any counseling from a stranger. Tony might talk to Ducky though. In the end, Gibbs gave Dr. Winter a curt nod, not agreeing but merely acknowledging the physician's advice.

After studying Gibbs for a moment, the doctor nodded in return, knowing he'd made his point, and understanding that belaboring it would do no good. "I'll examine your wound sites and we'll be done," he said.

Once the dressings were removed, and Gibbs got a good look at his injuries, he sort of wished he hadn't. His right forearm sported a long line of sutures along the gash and it looked pretty ugly, but Dr. Winter seemed pleased. Gibbs figured the doc knew his business so he didn't worry too much. The doctor pointed out that the laceration was relatively shallow and there hadn't been much damage to the underlying tissue. He talked for a while about the procedure he'd used to repair the laceration, and every now and then Gibbs would grunt to show he was listening.

There were comparatively few stitches in Gibbs' thigh, where he'd been stabbed. His leg ached dully and he knew that he'd be limping around for a while.

"The puncture wound was quite deep. Good thing the EMT was on top of things," Dr. Winter somberly, indicating how serious it had been.

"Tony was right there when it happened. If he hadn't put pressure on my leg, the EMT would have had a dead man to work on." Gibbs glanced at Tony and noticed he was pale and sitting stiffly on the edge of his bed, hanging on their every word. That was stupid, mentioning the possibility that he might have died. Their eyes met and Gibbs smiled at Tony to let him know everything really was fine. "Hey, I'm okay. We're both good, right?"

Tony didn't seem too sure when he said in a small voice, "Good. Right."

Dr. Winter looked over his shoulder at Tony and nodded his head in approval. "It's good to have someone with a steady hand in an emergency situation."

"Tony's a good second. We watch each other's back," said Gibbs proudly, and he was glad to see Tony relax and even smile a little as he accepted the praise.

"How about the pain level when you put weight on your leg?"

"Not bad," Gibbs lied. "I'm ready to walk out of here anytime now."

"I see you have an older injury to your left knee. Job-related?"

"You could say that. Souvenir from Kuwait."

"Hmmm. Trust the signals your body sends you, Agent Gibbs. Your leg should heal well, so long as you take it easy. Keep off your feet as much as possible over the next few days. If the leg hurts, elevate it. If you feel tired, get some rest. Eat sensibly, hold off on alcohol consumption, and take the meds I'm going to prescribe for you until they're _all_ gone. I think you know the drill. You'll be good in a few weeks."

All in all, Gibbs was grateful to have confirmation that he was going to walk – or limp – out of the hospital later that day, and that he'd regain the use of his right arm. He said, with a smile that he knew showed his relief, "Good, because I'm nowhere near ready to retire."

A nurse carrying a tray of medical supplies joined them and Dr. Winter acknowledged her, "Andrea," then turned his attention back to Gibbs. "I'll check back on you later, Agent Gibbs. Andrea will go over your meds and at-home care, and you can get rid of that sling tomorrow."

While the nurse re-bandaged Gibbs' wounds, Dr. Winter said, "Your Director has convinced me to allow a team of investigators in here to talk to you, although I have some misgivings. If they're a nuisance, just press the call button and we'll have them removed. Patient care supercedes the FBI any day." He said good-bye to Tony and left.

Once they were alone, Tony perched on Gibbs' bed so they could share the pastries that Fornell had brought Gibbs. Tony wolfed down one of the danishes, licked his fingers, and then dug into the hospital food on Gibbs' tray. Gibbs pulled a face when Tony consumed what looked like a bowlful of gray paste, but Tony shrugged and spoke with his mouth half full. "I'm hungry. You wan' some?"

Gibbs shook his head, fascinated by his lover's capacity to eat whatever was in front of him.

Tony swallowed a mouthful and said, "It's not bad. I think it's porridge. Reminds me of cafeteria food at prep school. It was always these bland colors and you couldn't tell a stew from Indian pudding." He held a spoonful of the cereal aloft and inspected it with a slight frown. "You know, I take it back. I think this is paper-maché paste."

"How can you eat that crap?" Gibbs took a bite of the remaining danish, and realized how hungry he was. He wondered how he was going to get more coffee because one cup was a nice start but it was only a drop in the bucket compared to his usual caffeine intake. Maybe he could send Tony out to cajole some coffee out of the nurses. There'd be some of the good stuff at the nurses' station, he'd bet.

Tony waved his spoon around and said, "When I was a kid, I ate a lot of things I shouldn't have. Worms, dirt, paper." He gave an exaggerated shudder. "Had to taste everything, experiment, investigate. I still tend to put things in my mouth that have no business being there. Except for your dick, Jethro, because that belongs inside of me." Tony waggled his eyebrows then proceeded to eat the rest of the cereal once he'd coerced a smile out of Gibbs.

"Tony!" It was one thing talking about it, or doing it in the privacy of one's home…or in a truck, or…okay, they'd done it in a public bathroom and an office, too. But talking about it like this, openly, was not something Gibbs was used to.

"What? You know you like to put your dick in my–"

"Hey!" Gibbs clamped his hand over Tony's mouth and was rewarded by Tony's tongue slipping out and licking his fingers. He removed his hand slowly and Tony grinned and went back to eating.

It struck Gibbs that Tony would be going back to college tomorrow, or possibly the day after, and he wondered how he was going to survive without him. Although Gibbs knew it was inevitable, he didn't have to like it. There really was nothing to keep Tony from heading back to Ohio, unless the FBI detained him because of the investigation. That was unlikely, considering that Tony was a victim and not a criminal, and that he had the backing of the director of NCIS. Which brought Gibbs to the impending visit of both a team of FBI agents and NCIS's Internal Affairs investigators. It was unusual to see the two agencies working together like this, but so long as they got the job wrapped up fast, and they could all move on, Gibbs didn't care who the hell was handling what.

While Tony started in on the breakfast on his own tray, Gibbs explained what he might expect from the investigators. "They'll interview us separately. They'll want to know everything that happened, right from the beginning. It will be recorded, and later on they'll give you a typed transcript to sign."

"Why don't they wait 'til we're both out of here?"

"High priority case. Need to make sure everything's all neatly wrapped up as fast as possible. The sooner it's done, the sooner we can put it behind us." It would bring closure for the victims and their families, Gibbs thought. He hated the word 'closure' but not knowing for sure if your loved one, your child, was just missing or was dead and not coming back, must be a living hell.

The FBI agents would probably take Tony into another room, and Gibbs thought it would be prudent to have someone accompany him into the meeting. They'd never let him be present, that was for sure. Gibbs wasn't sure how involved Fornell was likely to be, although he'd said he'd return with the FBI agents.

Maybe he could get Ducky to come in early, as he intended to pick Tony up anyway. Even if the ME couldn't get involved in the questioning, at least he'd be present to look out for Tony's best interests. Gibbs looked around and asked, "Is there a phone in here?"

"Mmm." Tony pushed his tray aside, now loaded with empty dishes, and fetched the phone for Gibbs.

"I'll call Ducky, make sure he's here and sticks by your side if I can't be there." It was a bit awkward pushing the phone's little buttons with his left hand, but Gibbs managed. While he waited for Ducky to pick up, he sent Tony an encouraging smile. "Just covering all our bases."

Tony looked worried anyway. "What am I supposed to tell the investigators?"

"The truth would be good but…" He got through to the NCIS switchboard and asked to be connected to Autopsy.

"Selective truth would be better," said Tony knowledgably. "Rule #7: always be specific when you lie."

Gibbs said sternly, "Hey! Don't lie to them, Tony." Seasoned agents would smell a lie a mile off, even if Tony _was_ good at maintaining a cover while under pressure.

"Okay, I won't lie." Tony gave a wicked little smile and said, "I can handle whatever they throw my way. After all, I've been interrogated by Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs and lived to tell about it. I think I can handle a couple of Feds."

Cocky kid, thought Gibbs, with a shake of his head. "Yeah, well, do not underestimate them. And while you're giving your statement to the FBI agents, I have to deal with the internal affairs guys." Ducky finally picked up and Gibbs told him that IA and the Feebs were due soon, and that Tony was going to be released from the hospital by noon. "He needs someone in his corner, Duck." Ducky agreed to come straight over, as Gibbs had expected. "I owe you one," said Gibbs, but the ME brushed the idea aside that Gibbs owed him anything.

Gibbs then asked to be connected to Director Morrow's office. The director seemed pleased to hear his voice, and asked after Gibbs' health and how Tony was doing. They talked for a few minutes, and Morrow gave Gibbs the lowdown on the latest developments in the case; basically that they'd bagged and tagged a shitload of evidence from Harding's dungeon and his trophy room, and if the Senator hadn't been killed, he'd be wishing himself dead about now.

Morrow said, "I saw some of the photographs, Gibbs, and all I can say is that Harding rivals the worst serial killers as far as depravity goes. One sick bastard. Forensics is just beginning to sort through the evidence, but it looks like he may have been killing for over thirty years. Seemed to be escalating the past couple of years, since he took his seat in the Senate." Morrow cleared his throat and said, "You did a good job, Agent Gibbs. All of you did, the whole team."

Director Morrow warned Gibbs that the media was all over the story, but that he'd arranged for uniformed cops to keep the rabid pack away from the hospital. Both NCIS and the FBI were keeping the names of the agents involved in the raid on Senator Harding's estate under wraps for now, but eventually Gibbs would be identified as the federal agent who killed the senator. It couldn't be helped.

Gibbs response was, "I can handle it, Director," even though he hated the thought of being hounded by the press. It would probably be a nightmare, especially when he had to keep his relationship with Tony under wraps. He had to laugh to himself because he was certain that by now everyone on his team, and on Fornell's team as well, had a pretty good idea that his feelings for Tony went deeper than those of a friend or mentor. So far nobody had given him any trouble, and seemed surprisingly tolerant. But if anyone outside his circle got wind of it he'd be in deep shit.

Apparently Director Morrow didn't know that Tony was Gibbs' lover, and Gibbs hoped it stayed that way. He loved his job, even on those days when he hated it, but if it came down to choosing between being an NCIS agent and being with Tony…well, Gibbs was damned sure that the job would not come out a winner.

As soon as he'd completed his conversation with Morrow, and had hung up, Gibbs leaned back with a sigh and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He was exhausted and this was no way to meet the IA investigators.

"Jethro? Are you okay?" Tony took Gibbs' hand and gave it a squeeze. "Can I get you anything?"

"I'm okay." He smiled though, happy to have Tony there and finding the young man's attempt to comfort him heartwarming. Maybe it was the way Tony was rubbing a thumb across his knuckles, but Gibbs was heating up and any moment the sheet covering his groin was going to tent – again. He groaned and shifted on the bed.

Tony didn't miss Gibbs' discomfort, and it made him smile. "You'd better save some of that for later, Jethro."

"Don't you worry. There's plenty more in reserve. What we need is to get out of this joint." He leaned forward to give Tony a slow kiss, then pulled away with a sigh. He hadn't finished talking to Tony about what to say – or what not to say – to the FBI agents. Back to business. "Just don't mention your past connection with Harding. With Sir, I mean."

Tony looked down at their laced fingers and raised one shoulder in a shrug.

"I mean it, Tony."

"I know. I got it."

Tony was still studying their hands and Gibbs could tell he was mentally gearing up to say whatever was on his mind. "Tell me," Gibbs ordered softly. "You can tell me anything."

The corners of Tony's mouth lifted in a brief smile before he looked anxious again. "I know that. But there's something…I think Sir took photos of…of his victims."

Gibbs said quietly, "Yeah, I know, Tony."

Tony's eyes widened in surprise. "You know about the pictures?" He studied Gibbs' face and then said, "Oh, you found where he kept them, didn't you?"

"There was a room where he kept trophies, personal things he kept from his victims. You knew about it?"

"The room? No, not really. My dad – one time he said something about Sir's trophy room, and of course I pictured sports trophies, the winning ball from the Yale Bowl and jock stuff, not…" Tony's face took on a vague expression, as if he was miles away. "I was sort of in and out of it 'cause of the shit Sir dosed me with, but when I was down in his dungeon there was this flashing light that woke me up and…I was lying on the floor but I could see him taking photos of that poor guy strapped to the bench – Kovacs. Sir grabbed him by the hair so he could see his face, and he taunted him. He said he was going to jerk off when he was looking at the photos, long after Kovacs was dead. Sir said he'd own a part of him forever." Tony bit his bottom lip, then said, "Funny thing is that when my dad was letting off steam a couple of weeks ago, freaking out and saying that Sir was crazy, he said, 'He damned well won't own me forever.' The thing is, I don't think Dad sounded like he believed his own words."

Gibbs wondered if Tony knew that his father had become sexually involved with Harding when they were both young, and that Senior had been jealous when his former lover had turned away from him, in favor of younger men. Somehow Gibbs doubted that Tony understood just how close Senior had been with Harding.

Gibbs cleared his throat and said, "Everything is in evidence now. Nobody except the investigators will see the photographs or anything else we found down there. We can get a judge to seal all photos and evidence pertaining to anyone who was underage." He waited for a response but Tony was looking down again, not a good sign. "What is it, Tony?"

"Um…I think…I think Sir might have taken photos of me."

"Last night, you mean?"

Tony shook his head, and Gibbs was relieved because the only photos that Mike Franks had found of Tony were the ones that Harding had taken when Tony was fourteen. Shit, Harding would be using a digital camera nowadays, and he hadn't thought to ask Franks if he'd looked over the images still in the camera.

"I didn't remember that he'd taken photos of me until I heard him telling Kovacs about how he kept photos of all of his…his conquests." Tony looked up at Gibbs with anger and guilt and hatred in his eyes, and although none of those emotions were a surprise to Gibbs, seeing them play out in quick succession was disturbing. Tony said, matter-of-factly, "He took photos of me right after he tied me up, when I was fourteen and he raped me at the beach house."

Tony said that without a stutter this time, thought Gibbs. He drew Tony to his chest and hugged him and kissed his temple, hating that Tony had to go through all this. "Don't worry about those photos, Tony. Franks found them and destroyed them. Nobody will ever see them. I promise. I promise."

Tony took a ragged breath and relaxed into Gibbs' arms. After a moment he asked, "You think Ducky can arrange so I can visit him? Charlie Kovacs, I mean."

Gibbs had no idea if Petty Officer Kovacs was even in the same hospital as them. "We'll ask Ducky. Soon as he gets here, okay?" Gibbs raised Tony's face and kissed him, no more than a brush of their lips. "I love you, Tony." Tony's response was simply to hold onto him tighter.

*** end chapter 51 ***


	52. Battlefield

There was a knock on the open door and Pacci stuck his head in, looked around, and then made his way to Gibbs' bedside. He grinned and raised a hand to greet Tony, who was lying on his bed with a pencil in his hand, working on a crossword puzzle. "Hey, how're you doin'? Heard you guys stuck a big twig in a hornet's nest." Pacci jerked a thumb in Tony's direction and said to Gibbs, "Next thing, this kid'll be at FLETC, and trying to take our jobs away if we're not careful."

"I think I'll stick to my football career," Tony replied with a grin. "A lot less likely to get hurt.

Gibbs was genuinely happy to see Pacci, who filled Gibbs in on his movements since they'd gone separate ways the night before. While the rest of the team was busy pursuing Senator Harding's limousine and then raiding his estate, Pacci followed Mike Franks' orders to check out the senator's DC home. Pacci had rustled up a couple of agents from NCIS headquarters and once Judge Eldridge had signed the necessary warrant they'd searched Harding's house, over by Rock Creek Park.

"It was pretty clean," said Pacci. "But after we poked around some, we found Harding's stash – looks like he made some videos of his activities. They were old, like from ten or fifteen years ago. I checked out a few minutes of one of the tapes and it matches his kind of kink; him beating on young men while they're tied down, tying a plastic bag over one kid's head, that kind of thing. Real bad shit. Forensics is going through them now, trying to match faces with missing Navy and Marine men."

Gibbs felt considerable relief that Harding had been stopped, but there was still a huge task in front of them. All of the victims had to be identified, using those tapes as well as the evidence found at Harding's country estate, and their families needed to be notified. That was the tough part, the families. The way they looked at you with grief and anger in their eyes, the way they asked – _demanded_ – 'Why? For God's sake, why?' As if anyone had the answer to that question – such deviant, brutal acts upon another human being was incomprehensible, unexplainable. The whole process was heartrending and emotionally difficult for everyone involved, especially as their loved one's remains had been sent to a watery grave and would, most likely, never be recovered.

Pacci said tentatively, "Gibbs? Franks says he's coming in later today, if you haven't escaped by then."

Gibbs realized that he hadn't been paying attention. "Yeah, sure, if he's supposed to be walking on that leg."

"Well, you know Franks. He'll do what he wants to do, and the hell with everyone else, especially anyone with MD after their name. Oh, and before I forget..." Pacci leaned over the bed's railing and lowered his voice. "Franks says to tell you that he took care of your stuff when he got home. He said you'd know what he was talking about."

Gibbs made it clear that he understood the message, and Pacci seemed satisfied.

Their nurse, Andrea, came in to check on Tony and Gibbs, and she offered Gibbs a couple of pain pills. He refused them, and when Tony questioned his decision with raised eyebrows, Gibbs said, "Need to keep a clear head."

***

Pacci didn't stay long, as his visit was interrupted by the arrival of the IA and FBI agents, two on each team, along with Agent Fornell. The agents sized each other up, with Fornell muttering under his breath about inter-agency cooperation being overrated. After some territorial bickering, the investigation teams agreed that IA would talk to Gibbs first while the FBI took Tony's statement.

Ducky appeared in the nick of time and accompanied Tony to a small meeting room just down the hall that the hospital had set aside for them. Ducky's hand rested on Tony's back in gentle encouragement when they followed the FBI agents of the room, but Tony looked back at Gibbs as if he was afraid they'd never see each other again. It took some effort for Gibbs to raise his hand and smile reassuringly, but it paid off when Tony gave a small smile in response.

**

The nurse had denied Gibbs permission to move to a chair, citing doctor's orders. He was still hooked up to monitors whose functions he didn't even want to know about, and the sticky things securing electrodes on his chest were damned well itching. Although the volume had been turned down on the monitors, Gibbs was all-too aware of flashing out of the corner of his eye as the numbers changed with his fluctuating heart and respiration rates. Hating that he was stuck in the hospital bed and feeling like a boat run aground, Gibbs found the button that controlled the bed and raised the back into an upright position so he could face the investigators head-on.

**

The Internal Affairs team from NCIS was made up of two seasoned agents who didn't waste any time taking their seats by Gibbs' bedside and getting down to business. Gibbs knew the men by sight but had never dealt with them on a professional level. They turned out to be methodical in their approach and they pretty much stuck to questions pertaining to the death of Senator Kingston Harding.

The lead agent, Culver, began by letting Gibbs know that they had listened to the audio recordings from Tony's wire, and had read the statements from the NCIS and FBI agents. Their preparation made the process run smoothly. When prompted, Gibbs went over the events of the previous night, keeping his descriptions brief and professional. By the time he was finished, he was sweating and had to drink a full glass of water, but at least he hadn't experienced another flashback. The last one had been so real that he'd tasted blood in his mouth and he didn't want a repeat of that.

Getting flashes of battlefield memories had almost inured Gibbs to them, and luckily, since he'd started at NCIS, he hadn't had too many cases that were so bad that they just wouldn’t leave him alone. Some cops needed to talk about the horrors they'd seen, the fear, feeling powerless and all the other shit that came with the job, but that wasn't Gibbs' way. He had his own way of coping, which consisted mainly of ignoring his feelings and getting on with the business at hand.

The IA agents told Gibbs they'd talk to him again once the results from ballistics and forensics were filed, and they made it clear that closing the case was a priority with the agency. Gibbs took that to mean that SecNav was hounding them to wrap it up in a neat, tightly wrapped bundle and file it under 'done', so that it wouldn't come back and bite them on the ass later on. The agents shook Gibbs' left hand, as his right arm was still in the sling, and said sincerely that they hoped he recovered soon. They seemed like decent men, and under different circumstances Gibbs wouldn’t have minded lifting a glass or two with them down at The Brewery, near the Navy Yard.

***

Gibbs barely had time to complete the round-trip to the bathroom – with the unwelcome assistance of an orderly – before Fornell and his two-man FBI team turned up. Gibbs wanted to ask Fornell how the interview with Tony had gone, but he never got a chance because as soon as Fornell started to settle, he got a phone call and had to take it outside. He hadn't returned by the time the FBI agents took their seats and began to interview Gibbs.

Right away Gibbs evaluated the younger of the two FBI agents, Schneider, to be a by-the-book kind of investigator. The other man, Agent Dickson, who was in is fifties and exhibited signs of being a boozer, hammered Gibbs with one question after another; he barely gave Gibbs time to form a reply before jumping in with another question. It wasn't long before Gibbs got seriously pissed off at the way Dickson was interrogating him, and it was apparent from the sideways looks Schneider gave his partner that Gibbs wasn't alone in thinking that Dickson was an asshole.

The agents wanted details of the investigation that had led NCIS to pursue Senator Harding, so Gibbs had to tell them about his trip to New York with Pacci and Burley the previous summer, when they'd conducted a search for Seaman Carl Jacobs. They focused on his conversation with DiNozzo Sr. and asked what Tony had told Gibbs about his father's relationship with Senator Harding.

"Tony only encountered Harding a couple of times, didn't even know his name. Tony said he was away at school a lot and their paths didn't cross." That was because Senior had made sure that Harding kept his distance from his son – after he'd had second thoughts about allowing his old pal to rape him. Not that Gibbs was about to tell that to his interrogators.

When he talked, Gibbs tried not to allow his personal dislike of Senior to show. Most likely he failed, but at least he didn't mention Senior's sexual relationship with Harding. Anyway, when they were at the hotel Fornell had overheard Senior's confession that he was jealous because Harding had moved on to younger men, so it wasn't exactly a secret. It was up to Fornell to use that information however he saw fit. It would certainly come in handy if the FBI wanted to coerce Senior into testifying against Alonzo Torres, because Gibbs was certain that DiNozzo Sr. did not want his bisexuality to become common knowledge. And now that Senator Harding had been revealed as a psychopathic serial killer who preyed on young men, Senior would put as much distance between himself and his former lover as possible.

The FBI agents soon moved on, wanting to know about Tony Jr.'s relationship with Alonzo Torres. Again, Gibbs gave straight answers: Tony knew Torres through his father's business association with him; Tony had dated Torres' daughter – briefly. "I would've thought you guys'd have plenty of intel on Torres, considering you've practically been living in his pocket for the past couple of years," said Gibbs, shaking his head as if disappointed. "I hear you lost track of him last night. Next time, why don't you call us at NCIS to trail your suspect." His remarks didn't make him any friends, nor did his smirk at the FBI agents' sour expressions.

**

Partway through the interrogation, Gibbs' leg began to hurt so badly that he regretted not taking painkillers when they'd been offered. As his muscles tensed up, the ache in his thigh became a stabbing pain. Gibbs had a hard time concentrating but he bit the bullet and kept his responses short to the point of being curt. Morrow had agreed they should share information with the FBI, so that's what he was doing, but the whole damned process was getting old really fast. All Gibbs wanted was for this to be over and done with so he and Tony could get the hell out of the hospital.

**

Agent Schneider asked for the specifics of the events leading up to Harding's death, so Gibbs took a deep breath and described the raid upon Harding's estate, right up to when they lost sight of Harding in the dark lake water after the gunfight at the boathouse. "After that, we went up to the house to warm up." Gibbs knew that Fornell's report would have covered the same ground, and he doubted he was saying anything that they didn't already know. "The housekeeper let us use a ground-floor guestroom. Tony was in bad shape for a while from hypothermia, and he was still out of it from the dope Harding had given him. The ambulance was on its way – for Petty Officer Kovacs as well as for Tony – but it was delayed and after a while Tony recovered enough to make it to the bathroom. By that time FBI Agents Fornell and Greene, and NCIS Agent Franks and Burley, all left to continue the investigation. I was taking Tony some dry clothes and all of a sudden Harding came up behind me and attacked me with a knife. He must have been in the walk-in closet, right next door the whole time," Gibbs said.

Schneider consulted his notes and confirmed, "Wet clothing was found at the back of a closet adjoining the guest room, and there was evidence that Senator Harding had been wounded, according to blood found at the scene."

"Yeah, Special Agent Franks shot Harding when he resisted arrest in the dungeon, and Harding took another round down by the boathouse."

Agent Schneider sent Gibbs a skeptical look. "It's pretty damned incredible that the senator was in any shape to walk up to the house, much less able to engage in hand-to-hand combat, Agent Gibbs."

"Yeah, well I figure that Harding musta been running on adrenaline and sheer craziness. There were cops all over the place by that time and no way was he going to find a way out of there. Maybe it was a desperate last move." Gibbs accused, "Look, Agent Greene did a room check and he missed Harding hiding in the closet. Your man made an error that almost cost me and Tony our lives." Gibbs' comment earned him a dirty look from Dickson, but Gibbs ignored him.

"And he's been duly reprimanded, Agent Gibbs," said Fornell as he strode into the room. From the grim look on the FBI agent's face, Gibbs would bet that they still hadn't located their most-wanted mob boss, Alonzo Torres. "Sorry I couldn’t be here but it looks like everyone's still in one piece," he said, leaning against the wall behind the seated agents, ostensibly to observe. "Just pretend I'm not here."

Gibbs had to answer a few questions about the actual fight, and finally Schneider said, "I think that's all, Special Agent Gibbs." He looked at his partner and asked, "Anything else or can we wrap this up?"

"Yeah, I have another question." Dickson leaned forward, and even before the question was posed, Gibbs could see from the look in Agent Asshole's eyes that the guy was going to do his best to cut him off at the knees. With a nasty little smile playing about his lips, Dickson asked, "Are you aware, Agent Gibbs, that Tony DiNozzo Jr. offered sexual favors to Senator Harding as soon as he got in the limo?"

Gibbs glared at Dickson but bit back a sharp retort. His instinct was to deny that Tony would do such a thing, that Dickson's insinuation was ridiculous and unwarranted. But no matter how sure Gibbs was that Tony would never have offered himself to the man who had raped him as a teenager, Gibbs did not know for certain what had occurred when Tony first joined Harding in the limo. "Seems to me that Tony is the only person who knows firsthand what the hell happened," Gibbs said, not liking that he was at a disadvantage.

By the time he'd jumped into the FBI van, grabbed a set of headphones and had begun to listen to the live audio feed, all Gibbs had heard was heavy breathing. It wasn't long before they'd heard the sound of a man – Senator Harding – reaching an orgasm. It hadn't taken much imagination to figure out what had been going on, that Harding had forced Tony into giving him a blowjob. And it could have been so much worse, thought Gibbs, if Tony hadn't been wearing that chastity belt. But they were dealing with facts here, not deductions or guesses, no matter how well he knew Tony.

Gibbs fixed his gaze on Agent Dickson and said in a tight voice, "I missed the first few minutes of the surveillance audio but Agent Greene briefed me on what I'd missed. He said that Harding put cuffs on Tony and forced a drink on him, which we now know contained rohypnol. I heard…we all heard…Tony crying out in pain at various times during the trip out to Harding's estate." Gibbs looked past the seated agents and said sharply, "Thought you took Tony's statement, Fornell."

Fornell shrugged and said, almost ruefully, "Tony didn't have much to say, Gibbs. He started out saying something about…not knowing anything, and knowing too much. Quoting from a movie. 'Marathon Man,' I think it was?"

Gibbs couldn't help snorting, relieved that Tony had been himself during his interview. "What's the matter? Was Tony being _difficult_ , Tobias?"

That brought a reluctant smile to Fornell's face. "Now, why is it that I get the feeling you've been teaching that young man counter-interrogation techniques, Jethro?"

"Oh no, Tony came like that, pre-packaged. I only hope you remember that he isn't a suspect," Gibbs reminded Fornell. "And I'd better not hear you treated him badly, because that will make me very, very unhappy," Gibbs threatened the FBI agents, looking each one in the eye, making sure they understood that his warning was not to be taken lightly. He had to remind himself that Ducky was with Tony, and that the ME would never allow any harm to come to the young man.

Agent Schneider started to protest at Gibbs' tone of voice, saying, "Now look here, Gibbs," but Fornell put a cautionary hand on his agent's shoulder, and said, "Hell, Gibbs, of course we wouldn't treat your boy badly. Dr. Mallard made it quite clear from the start that he was watching out for Tony's best interests. And Tony did a good job during the whole thing. I mean that. He got Harding and Torres to talk, which was what we were after," Fornell said with a small inclination of his head. "We had to question him, though, had to cover all the angles. You know how that goes."

Gibbs replied, a little of his anger showing, "And I told you back in Morrow's office that I didn't agree with using him in the op. Way too risky. But just the same, Tony put himself on the line to get what you wanted, Fornell." He felt his anger building, too close to the surface, his need to protect Tony taking precedence over good sense. Gibbs realized that one of his monitors was beeping insistently in the background. Fornell raised his eyes to a point above Gibbs' head; the volume on the cardiac monitor may have been turned way down, but the readouts were visible and Gibbs wished he'd had the foresight to insist that the nurse disconnect them, at least during this meeting. Luckily, neither Dickson nor Schneider was paying any attention to the signs of Gibbs' rising temper, but it was obvious that Fornell got the picture.

Fornell's gaze slipped away from the machines and his eyes locked on Gibbs'. "There's no question that Tony went above and beyond the call of duty," Fornell said in a placating tone. "I think you're selling him short, though. It wasn't _me_ he was trying to please."

No, Tony threw himself into harm's way to protect _me_ , thought Gibbs. "Tony thought my job was on the line," he said, almost under his breath.

Fornell understood. "He's very loyal. I like that in a man."

"Loyal to NCIS?" Dickson asked with a leering smile. "So your director gives orders to Tony to offer sex to the senator, and he just jumps right in? Is that how you operate over at NCIS? Offer free blow-jobs to suspects to soften them up? Or was Junior just doing what comes naturally to him? It sure sounded like he was getting into his work, getting up close and personal with the senator."

Gibbs turned on Dickson, demanding, "What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Senator Harding was a predator and a murderer and our job was–"

Dickson interrupted, "You didn't have any evidence that the senator had committed a crime at that point."

"Hold your horses! That's not entirely accurate, Agent Dickson," Fornell cut in, moving to stand right by Gibbs' bedside, acting as a buffer between Gibbs and the other FBI agents.

Gibbs wondered if Fornell was positioning himself so he could prevent Gibbs from going after the FBI agents, if things started to heat up. That struck Gibbs as being pretty funny, considering that his injuries, and the wires and tubes tethering him to the hospital bed, made it unlikely that he could launch any kind of attack.

Dickson didn't even spare Fornell a glance when he said dismissively, "Agent Fornell, I believe you are present here only in an advisory capacity."

Fornell countered, "In that case, I'll advise you to remember that Special Agent Gibbs is a fellow federal agent and should not be treated like he's a rabid killer, Agent Dickson. And that we now have evidence against Alonzo Torres due to Tony DiNozzo agreeing to wear a wire."

Gibbs stifled a laugh. He leaned forward, gritting his teeth against the pain in his thigh, and said, "If you paid attention to the surveillance, Dickson, you'd know that even before Tony left the hotel grounds, he told Harding that he didn't want to go with him. Tony established that Harding was forcing him into that limousine against his will. Anything that Tony did while being held captive by his kidnapper can be considered to be an act of defense."

Dickson held up a hand and said loudly, "Wait! Wait a minute. Explain this to me. How the hell did Tony Jr. even get involved in this op? I mean, didn't he assault his own father, who was under the protection of the FBI, during a meeting over at NCIS? Whose idea was it that this punk could be trusted to do a federal officer's job?"

"Director Morrow trusted Tony to get the damned job done, and that's exactly what Tony did. I trust him!" Gibbs was going to say more but, true to form, Dickson spoke over him.

"Aren't you the guy who repeatedly struck Mr. DiNozzo Sr. when you had him pinned to the floor, Agent Gibbs? You damaged Mr. DiNozzo's face so badly that he was unable to meet with the suspects–"

Fornell broke in, saying loudly, "If you read my report, Agent Dickson, you'd know that Mr. DiNozzo was unstable. He was going to warn the suspects when they showed up at his hotel, mess up the whole op. How Tony was chosen, and how Mr. DiNozzo was…uh…damaged, is not a concern of this investigation."

Agent Dickson stared at Fornell. "May I remind you, Agent Fornell, that Tony Jr. stabbed Senator Harding?"

Apparently even Agent Schneider had had enough because he held up one hand and said to his partner, "Okay, let's finish this up, Dickson. I think that Special Agent Gibbs has given us everything we need. Make your point so we can get out of here."

His jaw set, Dickson looked angrily at Schneider, then turned towards Gibbs again. His voice was tightly controlled when he said, "My _point_ is that Tony DiNozzo Jr. has a history of sexual misconduct, admittedly while under his father's direction, but it has been going on for years according to our intel. I'm saying that Tony Jr. not only instigated sexual contact with Senator Harding in the senator's limo, but that last night Tony Jr. was engaged in a similar activity in the senator's bathroom and you walked in on them, Agent Gibbs, and you broke the senator's neck in a violent fit–"

Gibbs shouted, "Do not! Do not even go there, Dickson!" He pushed away the bedcovers and swung his legs over the side of the bed, yanking at the wires until the electrodes were stripped off his chest. The heart monitor immediately began screeching in alarm, but Gibbs was so angry he beyond noticing. "You want violence? You want to get a taste of this, Dickhead? Because I'm gonna–"

Fornell grabbed Gibbs by the shoulders, trying to force him to remain in bed, ordering, "Enough!" He quickly blocked his own agents, who had jumped to their feet, preventing them from getting near Gibbs.

Dickson was jammed against Fornell's back, trying to get around him, his arm raised, pointing at Gibbs, shouting and challenging him, ready to fight. "You - you broke his neck, Gibbs! And that kid took part in it! You're using your badge to hide behind, to get away with murdering a US senator, and everyone is coming down on our agency, all because of your actions!"

Agent Schneider was hauling at Dickson, yelling at him to back off while avoiding his partner's wildly swinging fists.

Half off the bed, Gibbs fought Fornell, who was barely managing to restrain him. Gibbs shouted at Dickson, "Tony put his life on the line in order to save Kovacs. Tony was drugged, tortured, and almost drowned by that fucker Harding! But he survived. He _survived_! The senator attacked me, attacked us, and we protected ourselves. So don't you even try to make this sound dirty, because it won't stick!"

A nurse rushed in with two orderlies on her heels, and went straight to Gibbs' bedside. "Agent Gibbs! Agent Gibbs, you have to calm down!" She pushed a button on one of the machines near Gibbs and the alarm stopped clamoring. "You men, out of here! All of you."

A security guard appeared and started to clear the room, and it wasn't until he and Agent Schneider managed to get Dickson out into the corridor that Gibbs was able to get himself under control. He was so angry he couldn’t see straight, could barely reason and certainly didn't trust himself to speak. He sensed that the nurse was close by, hovering but not touching him, and he instinctively knew she was afraid of him, of what he might do. Fornell kept talking to him and eventually Gibbs regained his composure enough to sit back. "All right, all right! I'm fine, Tobias," Gibbs said, his voice rough, his chest heaving as if he'd had a tough workout.

Fornell stayed by the bedside, his hands outstretched, looking warily at Gibbs. It was a couple more minutes before Gibbs let out a big sigh, and only then did Fornell slowly step back. Still, the FBI agent didn't take his eyes off Gibbs, apparently not trusting him to stay put. "You always this much trouble, Gibbs?" Fornell asked, with a reluctant smile.

"You must bring out the best in me," Gibbs said with a shake of his head. He sank back onto the bed and closed his eyes, running a hand over his face. God, he still felt like belting someone but he knew he had to get a grip. It seemed as though lately he'd done nothing but strike out in anger, and that wasn't like him, not really. He'd always prided himself on being able to contain his anger, keep his instinct to lash out at the enemy under tight control. Except that Dickson had provoked him, damn it, making those insinuations about Tony.

A woman's voice said, "Agent Gibbs? I'm going to take your blood pressure now. I'm going to touch your arm. Is that all right?"

Gibbs opened his eyes and saw the nurse, Andrea, standing almost out of arm's reach with an uncertain expression on her face, and he immediately regretted that he'd caused her to be scared of him. He nodded, suddenly weary. "Sure. I'm…sorry." By the end of the examination, the nurse seemed more at ease, even smiling at Gibbs as she finished attaching several electrodes to his chest. The orderlies and a couple of security guards hovered near the doorway, their eyes watchful, and Gibbs couldn’t really blame them. He glanced at Fornell, who was looking stern and a bit worried.

"I'll check your pressure again in a little while," Andrea said, lowering the head of his bed a bit. "Right now the reading is unusually high, but that's to be expected, given the fact you were engaged in a brawl when I came in."

"I promise, no more brawling," he agreed. It was only when Andrea gently repositioned his arm that Gibbs realized it had become free of the sling – and as soon as he looked at his bandaged forearm, the damned thing started to throb like crazy. His leg still hurt, but now he was lying down, it didn't bother him quite so much. More of an ache than anything.

Andrea teased, "This time, you think you can refrain from tearing off all the electrodes, at least until Dr. Winter gets here? A little less Incredible Hulk would be good."

Gibbs gave her a smile in response though he didn't like to hear that she'd called in his doctor. Damn, now he'd never get out of the damned hospital.

*** end chapter 52 ***


	53. Approval

From his hospital bed, Gibbs turned his head towards Fornell, who was staring absently out the window. "Okay, Tobias, what's the bad news?"

Fornell sighed deeply. "We've pulled out all the stops to locate Torres, but wherever he's hiding…hell, he might be halfway to New York, or Colombia, for all we know."

Gibbs shook his head. "No, he's not running. Torres knows the FBI brought in DiNozzo, and he'll figure that Senior is spilling his guts to save his sorry hide. And don't forget that Harding told him that Senior double-crossed them over the heavy weapons deal." Gibbs laughed humorlessly. "If I was DiNozzo I'd be watching my back. Alonzo Torres is gonna be looking for revenge, and looking to get his hands on the millions that Senior stole from him."

"He can't get to DiNozzo while he's in our custody," Fornell said.

Gibbs pointed out, "Senior already escaped once."

Fornell gave an embarrassed shrug. "Yeah, well, we won't underestimate him again."

"Where are Torres' men now?"

"We rounded them up and interrogated them. They're not smart enough to hide anything, and it's pretty obvious they don't know where Torres has gone to ground. At first they assumed we had him in custody. Anyway, we're holding them on suspicion of killing our two FBI agents a few months ago. We'll keep tightening the screws until they'll give Torres up."

Gibbs thought for a minute and asked, "His right-hand man…"

"Rick Azari? We picked him up once we extricated him from the hooker he'd invited up to his hotel room." Fornell rolled his eyes. "He's a punk. Won't get any higher in the organization. What about him?"

"Torres didn't have a cell phone. He had Azari make all his calls for him, right?"

"We checked out all of Azari's calls. Hang on." Fornell pulled a printout from his pocket and together they scrutinized the list of phone numbers, which had neatly penciled in names and addresses next to them.

Gibbs pointed to a series of calls made the previous day. "These ones were made a couple of hours before Harding picked up Torres in the limo."

Fornell ran his finger down the list. "A restaurant, hotel, twice to Azari's wife, a call for a hooker, and one to Briggs. That would have been to let Briggs know where to pick him up."

Gibbs looked at Fornell and asked, "You get anything out of Briggs?"

Fornell's brow creased as he looked down the list of phone numbers. "Other than complaints that Agent Esposito broke his fingers?"

Gibbs pulled back a little and studied Fornell's too-innocent expression. "I thought he only broke one of Briggs' fingers."

Fornell said, slightly defensively, "Hey, it was a long trip back to headquarters. These things happen."

"Bet they do." Gibbs chuckled and then asked who some of the other calls were to.

"Friends and family back home," Fornell said, indicating calls made the day before. "And a couple of calls to Antioch Aviation. They're the company that leases the jet to DiNozzo, and they handle the scheduling of all the flights." Before Gibbs could ask, Fornell said, "We checked it out. Azari was confirming the flight back. Turns out he wanted to be home in time for his wedding anniversary, which was today. Tough luck, huh?"

"You have someone keeping an eye on the jet in case Torres decides to use it to flee?"

"Yeah, we have agents on it, but that's way too risky. Torres couldn’t get close with the kind of security they have at the airport. Besides, we plan to use the jet to fly DiNozzo Sr. back to New York tomorrow night. And as soon as Senior is safely delivered to the New York office, he'll be out of my hair and I can concentrate on Torres."

"What do plan to do with Senior?"

"Eh, if he gives up the right kind of information about Torres and his dealings, anything that'll help us nail the bastard, then we just might think about providing him with a new identity. Personally, I'm in favor of setting Senior as a shoe salesman in Akron."

"You get to pick his new name?"

"I wish. Thaddeus Puddlefocker. Doug Hole. Hezekial Hogg. Oh, I'm sure we can think of something appropriate."

When Gibbs stopped laughing he asked, "Where's Senior now?"

"Hopefully he's talking his head off back at the Bureau. We've set up a safe house for tonight." Fornell hesitated and then said, "He's been asking what we've done with Tony. Wants to talk to his son."

Gibbs frowned at the FBI agent. "Tough luck. He has no rights with Tony, not after everything he's done to him. Tony's cut himself off from the bastard."

"He just wants to talk to his kid, Gibbs."

"I said no, Fornell," Gibbs said sharply. "It's not up for debate."

"Don’t you think it's up to–"

Gibbs barked, "Hey!"

"All right, all right," Fornell said, backing off.

Gibbs couldn't figure out why Fornell would even ask such a thing, but then he remembered that Fornell didn't know the whole story. He didn't know that Tony's own father had given his teenaged son to his perverted friend to abuse and rape. As far as Gibbs was concerned, nobody would ever know about that incident. "Where is Tony, anyway?"

"Dr. Mallard took him down to the cafeteria to get some lunch." Fornell checked his watch. "Look, I've got to get back to the Bureau; we'll compare notes later."

Gibbs nodded, and then called after Fornell, "Hey, Fornell, think you can get me a copy of the audio that came from the limo?"

"The Bureau's sending copies of everything to NCIS," he reminded Gibbs.

"Yeah, but can you get me a copy as well? I'll be at Ducky's tonight, if they ever let me out of here."

There was a single knock at the open door and Agent Schneider took a cautious step forward. Fornell indicated he could approach, only after checking that Gibbs wasn't about to go for his throat. Schneider offered a tentative smile to Gibbs and didn't appear to be harboring any ill feelings. Even better, there was no sign of Dickson, which pleased Gibbs.

Schneider reported to Fornell, "Just wanted to let you know that Agent Dickson went to the car to make a phone call and he won't be back." Gibbs was tempted to ask if Dickson was calling his supervisor to lodge a formal complaint, but he held his tongue. Schneider turned to Gibbs and said, "My partner was out of line, Agent Gibbs."

Well, that was a surprise. After a moment, Gibbs gave a small nod and looked the FBI agent straight in the eye. "You make sure that your partner knows that Tony stepped up to the plate and did a man's job last night, as good as any federal agent would have done under the same circumstances. Maybe even better. And I am _damned_ proud of him. If you think that anyone – my team, my boss, the director of NCIS or even the Secretary of the Navy – believes that Tony is anything but a hero for what he's done, then you are dead wrong."

Schneider nodded and after a moment's hesitation, stepped close to the hospital bed and shook Gibbs' hand. "I understand, Special Agent Gibbs, and I'll make sure that my partner understands as well." He added, with a small laugh, "I'm damned glad we're on the same side, Gibbs, 'cause I'd hate to see how you treat your enemies."

***

He'd had enough of dealing with people, especially with FBI agents, to last a lifetime, especially when what he really wanted to have Tony in his arms, warm and receptive and simply _there_. No sooner had Gibbs closed his eyes and had begun to imagine he was slowly removing Tony's shirt so he could suck on his nipples, than a discreet cough alerted him to his doctor's presence.

By the time Dr. Winter finished examining him, Gibbs was cranky and tired, and his leg was bothering him. He asked about leaving the hospital, but the doctor still wouldn't say whether or not he'd release Gibbs by the end of the day. The uncertainty was enough to make Gibbs seriously consider signing himself out AMA, even if that meant he'd catch hell from Ducky.

Apparently Dr. Winter wasn't fooled when Gibbs made light of his pain. He delivered an injection into Gibbs' IV line along with a lecture about taking responsibility for his health, interposed with a story about his days in medical school that would have entertained Ducky. Gibbs knew that it was best to let the doc get the reprimand and storytelling out of his system, and he hoped that if he at least _appeared_ to be contrite, he'd have a chance of being released on schedule. No matter what, come six o'clock he was walking the hell out of the hospital.

***

As Gibbs lay there with his eyes closed, trying to summon the strength to get out of bed and make his way to the bathroom, it occurred to him that if he couldn’t even get to the head on his own, then how the hell was he going to walk out of the damned hospital? He laughed at his own stupidity while wondering if the medication the doc had given him was making him a bit loopy.

"I must say, I'm glad that someone finds this morning's events amusing."

Gibbs' eyes flew open to find Ducky approaching with a smile on his face. "Hey, Duck." He pushed himself up on one elbow, trying not to wince as he did so. He looked beyond the medical examiner, seeking Tony, only to be disappointed that Tony wasn't there.

Before Gibbs could even ask, Ducky explained, "Anthony is at the desk, signing his discharge paperwork. Or, as he calls it, his 'get out of jail free card.' I left him chatting up a pretty young nurse, which should keep him occupied for a little while."

A surge of jealousy hit Gibbs. "A nurse?"

"Yes, by the name of Lydia, I believe. There were several young ladies flocking around Anthony, so I doubt that any one of them will have his full attention. Ah, to be so young." Ducky pulled a chair close to Gibbs' bed and took a moment to cast a professional eye over the quietly beeping monitors. Apparently everything was to Ducky's satisfaction because he settled back in his chair and said calmly, "I want a word with you before he joins us."

"Everything okay?" Gibbs asked with concern.

Ducky cleared his throat and said, "Not entirely, Jethro. You see, earlier, we could hear the contretemps quite clearly from out the corridor."

"The what?"

"When you were having a disagreement with the FBI agents."

"Oh. That. Tony heard…?"

"I'm afraid so, dear boy."

Gibbs cringed inwardly. "How much did he hear?"

"I believe one of the agents made an erroneous accusation that you killed Senator Harding in a fit of jealousy. Your voices were quite loud." Gibbs covered his eyes and groaned, to which Ducky said dryly, "Yes. Exactly. I must say that the way you stood up for Anthony was quite rousing, despite the rather rough language you used."

Gibbs lowered his hand and said apologetically, "Yeah, well, I lost it when that dickhead…Was Tony upset?"

Ducky gave a huff of laughter. "Hardly, Jethro! Anthony was quite tickled by the vehemence with which you defended him. I gather that nobody was injured in the scuffle?"

Gibbs snorted. "Not for want of trying. Next time."

Ducky eyed Gibbs but didn't comment. Instead he changed the subject and noted, "Anthony appears to be bouncing back quite well. In fact, amazingly well. He certainly has a healthy appetite. You should see the amount of food he consumes in one sitting. When I was a lad, back in Scotland, I had an exceedingly thin classmate who ate such enormous helpings at mealtimes, that one day…"

Ducky's voice drifted off, lost in thought for a moment, but then he focused on Gibbs once again. "Well, I'll save that tale for another day. To answer your question: I believe that although Anthony was proud of the way you fought for his good character, he became rather concerned about the accusation that your motives may have been less than noble. Anthony tried to come to your defense. He did make several attempts to enter this room, but a burly security officer blocked his way. It took some doing, but once Agent Dickson left the premises, I was able to convince Anthony to go to the cafeteria with me and he then calmed down." Ducky paused and then added, "He does worry about you, Jethro."

"Nothing to worry about," said Gibbs, which earned him a dubious look from Ducky. "You're taking Tony home with you, right? I'll be there for dinner. That okay?"

Ducky agreed to the plan. "I have the rest of today off so I can give Anthony my full attention. Gerald is at home as well, and I'm sure that he and Anthony will find some common ground."

"I don't want to put you out, Ducky."

"Not at all. It will be just us men as my mother has gone off on a jaunt with her bridge partners for a few days. Why, she even took the Corgis," Ducky said with a pleased smile. He glanced towards the doorway and then leaned towards Gibbs and said quietly, "I have made arrangements for Anthony to visit Petty Officer Kovacs, who is presently being cared for one floor above us. His doctors are confident that the young man will make a full physical recovery, despite the horrific abuse he suffered, but as far as his mental state goes…well, that is deeply troubling. Kovacs hasn't said a word, and barely reacts to anyone, not even his family, although they have been very supportive. The petty officer's physician feels that connecting with another survivor may help break through to him, though it may be some time before the young man shows any significant improvement. I believe that this visit could also benefit Anthony, especially as he asked to see Petty Officer Kovacs in the first place."

Ducky was looking at him expectantly, but Gibbs wasn't sure why. "You asking for my permission or something, Duck?"

"Not I, Jethro, but it seems as though Anthony won't do anything without your approval."

"I already told him he should visit Kovacs, if that's what he wants, but Tony doesn't need me to give him the go-ahead. He snuck out of the hotel last night, and got into Harding's limo, knowing full well the danger he was putting himself in. He didn't need my permission or approval or whatever, and he knew damned well he wasn't going to get it," Gibbs said angrily.

Ducky raised his eyebrows and said dryly, "I'm afraid you're quite wrong, Jethro. Anthony does, indeed, need your approval. Of course his actions were foolhardy, but he was trying to get you the information you sought as a way of getting your attention and, indeed, your approval. He seeks validation, to prove himself worthy of your love. Perhaps this stems from the uncertainty of his current situation, which is quite unsettling, and also due to the lack of a father figure in his life at present. Anthony could benefit from a clear set of plans outlining his future."

Gibbs narrowed his eyes at the ME, sensing disapproval. "You saying I'm some kind of father figure?"

Ducky's eyes went to Gibbs graying hair and then lowered to settle on his face. He said smoothly, "If you are not Anthony's father figure, then what are you to him, Jethro? Perhaps that is question that needs to be addressed before your relationship progresses any further. One cannot build a house on quicksand, after all."

Gibbs was about to ask Ducky what the hell he was getting at when movement at the open doorway caught his eye and he looked up to find Tony slouching there, doing a fine impression of James Dean.

"Hey," Tony said, cautiously checking out the room. "Is the coast clear?"

Gibbs couldn't help but feel a pang of remorse at the sight of the young man's injuries, with his shaggy hair cut away to expose the bandage taped above his ear, and the side of his face and neck mottled with bruising. He noticed the way Tony pulled the cuffs of his sweatshirt down in a nervous gesture, trying to keep the bandages on his wrists out of sight. Gibbs knew that Ducky was right; Tony had thrown himself in harm's way because of his misconception that Gibbs' job was at stake, because he thought he needed to prove something. Trying to do the right thing for all the wrong reasons, he thought. It looked like he was going to have to have a long talk with Tony in order to get things straight, and soon.

"Coast is clear and I'm all out of ammo," Gibbs said with an inviting smile, wishing Ducky wasn't present so he could greet Tony with open arms. Even when he was all banged up and sending off waves of insecurity, Tony turned Gibbs on like nobody else could. Gibbs thought that maybe his urge to protect the one he loved was somehow tied into his strong sexual feelings for Tony. Hell, all he knew was that he loved Tony in a way he'd never loved anyone before.

Tony came over to Gibbs' bedside and leaned on the railing to smile at him, his eyes sparkling with humor. "Good thing you're a sharpshooter, Jethro."

"Hit my target dead-on and I've got the badge to prove it." Not quite accurate, as he had missed his chance to beat the living daylights out of Agent Dickson. Gibbs held out his hand to Tony, thinking the hell with it, and not caring that Ducky was watching. When Tony grabbed onto him as if he had been offered a lifeline, Gibbs knew he'd done the right thing. "Sit here, Tony, and tell me what went on. Those FBI agents get out of line when they questioned you? 'Cause if they did, I'm gonna–"

"You're going to beat them up?" Lowering the railing, Tony sat himself on Gibbs' bed, facing him. "They weren't that bad, or at least the NCIS agents were okay." His smile disappeared and he said, "Guess you got the brunt of those FBI guys' fucked-up bullshit."

Ducky warned lightly, "Anthony."

Tony said, "Yeah, I know, Ducky, but that guy Dickson was an asshole and there's no other way of saying it."

Gibbs laughed and felt a little lightheaded, unsure if it was from a strange kind of happiness at having Tony by his side, or if it was a result of the pain medication.

"Yes, well, Agent Dickson _was_ rather lacking in the tact department." Ducky joined in the laughter. "I know, a bit of an understatement. However, Anthony handled himself very well, and I believe he was quite open with his responses to their questions."

Not letting go of Gibbs' hand, Tony turned to face Ducky. "Like you told them, the rohypnol's side effects include loss of memory."

Ducky raised one eyebrow. "I noticed that you didn't correct Agent Schneider when he surmised you had no memory of the limousine ride."

"It's not my fault he assumed that," said Tony, lifting his chin as if slightly offended. "I…I remember some of it, but they have it all on tape, so what does it matter if I remember or not?" His gaze dropped and he said softly, "Not like I _want_ to remember it. Can't we talk about something else?"

"Tony." Gibbs squeezed Tony's hand and got him to look at him. "What did they ask you? They ask about Harding?"

Tony shook his head. "Not really. The FBI guys seemed more interested in where my father banks offshore, and if I knew anywhere Torres might be hiding. How would I know where he is? They didn't ask much about what went on last night, except…" Tony studied Gibbs' hand intertwined with his own and said, "I had to tell them about the fight…in the bathroom. I told them how Harding wouldn't let up on you, and how you were hurt really bad, bleeding all over, and how all the time you were trying to hold Sir back so he couldn’t hurt me any more. I couldn’t get past him and when he knocked me down and I f-fell on your knife and I grabbed it, and I jabbed at him…to make him stop."

Gibbs extricated his wounded arm from its sling and pulled Tony to his chest. He murmured into Tony's hair, "It's okay, Tony. It's all over. You're safe now and soon we'll both be at Ducky's. We'll have dinner together, how's that?" Tony's eyes were closed and he lay on Gibbs' chest passively, but after a minute he nodded his head in reply. Gibbs added gruffly, "If the doc doesn't give me walking papers, I'm going to sign myself out and leave anyway. So what I need you to do now is to go with Ducky."

Tony sat up with a stubborn look on his face, but Gibbs halted any protests before they were made. "Ducky's going to take you to visit Charlie Kovacs, and from what I hear, he really needs a friend right now – someone who understands what went on. I know it'll be tough, and you don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. But maybe you just being there will be enough. You can do that, right?"

Nodding, Tony said in a small voice, "Yeah. I can try. I'd like to see him." He glanced in Ducky's direction. "You'll be with me, Ducky?"

"Of course, dear boy." Ducky took a deep breath and stood up. "I'll just make sure that this is a convenient time to see Petty Officer Kovacs. I won't be five minutes. It looks like you, Jethro, could do with some rest after this morning's activity. Don't forget that you lost a considerable amount of blood in addition to your other injuries."

The minute they were alone, a big smile blossomed across Tony's face. "I can think of some fun activities to keep you busy." He took Gibbs' face in both of his hands and kissed him, making small needy sounds as his tongue thoroughly explored Gibbs' mouth.

Gibbs splayed one hand in the small of Tony's back and ran the other through his hair while he angled his head to deepen the kiss, making a few needy sounds of his own. After a minute they parted and Gibbs panted into Tony's mouth, "God, what you do to me."

"I'll show you what I can really do to you tonight," Tony promised.

"Not sure how much I'll be up to with my leg like this," said Gibbs ruefully.

"It isn't your leg I'm interested in," said Tony, licking his lips suggestively. He ran his hand over the blanket that covered Gibbs' uninjured leg until he reached Gibbs' groin. "Now this is a hell of a lot more interesting," he said, giving Gibbs' genitals a squeeze through the bedclothes. "Maybe we shouldn't wait 'til tonight." Reluctantly, Gibbs brushed Tony's hand away but Tony made a sound of protest and grabbed at Gibbs' dick again. "C'mon, we can do this," Tony insisted. "I'll tell Ducky I've changed my mind about visiting Kovacs. I'll stay here with you and–"

Tony's hand was rubbing along Gibbs' shaft, and even through the blanket it felt good. Quickly Tony pulled down the sheet and delved under Gibbs' hospital gown, impatiently pushing the thin cloth out of the way. With a small sound of triumph, Tony found Gibbs' hardening cock, wrapped his fingers possessively around it, and gave it a couple of long strokes. Gibbs' hips rose in response and he groaned loudly. Tony lowered his head to kiss and lick his way up Gibbs' exposed belly to his chest, avoiding the electrodes and wires. The sensation of Tony's wet tongue and sucking mouth sent shivers of anticipation along Gibbs' spine, and right to his balls. 

It wasn't until Tony's fingers tweaked one of his nipples that Gibbs came to his senses. Wondering where this horny Tony had come from all of a sudden, and knowing they had to stop, he ordered in a rough voice, "Tony, don't!" He had to forcibly remove Tony's hand from his cock and glare at him before Tony gave in with a roll of his eyes. Gibbs said sternly, "Let's not start something we can't finish." He tugged his hospital gown back into place, and pulled the sheet and blanket up, trying to cover everything up before Ducky returned.

Disappointed, Tony pulled a face, sat up and adjusted himself. "All right, but you owe me a rain check, Jethro."

Gibbs understood Tony's need to be close, and he, too, had the same compulsion. But after everything that Tony had been through, including seeing Gibbs break his abuser's neck right in front of him, Gibbs would have thought that sex would be the last thing on Tony's mind. He'd expected Tony to be repelled by the very thought of any kind of sexual activity, yet here he was, acting as if nothing had happened, as if he hadn't just survived a traumatic event that would have adversely affected the strongest of men if they had been in his shoes.

Gibbs looked into Tony's eyes with concern. "Hey. You sure you're all right?" Gibbs was sure that he saw a flicker of uncertainty there, but it was when Tony gave him a bright smile, looking so much like his father – all smooth charm and carefully shielded emotions – that Gibbs was momentarily taken aback, that he knew for certain that Tony was in denial. Unsure of how to approach Tony to ask what was going on in that brain of his, and feeling very much out of his depth, Gibbs opted to wait. He'd have to ask Ducky about it later; he'd know what to do.

"I'm fine. Later, then," Tony said casually as he played with the edge of Gibbs' blanket. "Is Ducky going to be okay with this? With us? Because I'm not sleeping apart from you, Jethro. Hey, you know what? We could go to the Excelsior Hotel. We can stay in the suite; it's all paid up 'til the end of the month. I don't know who has the key but I know the concierge, and he'll let us in…"

"We'll be fine at Ducky's. I'll take care of it." Gibbs ran his hand down the side of Tony's face, caressing his cheek, ever mindful of his bruises. It was at that moment, when he was close to Tony, holding him, touching his warm and silky skin, able to look into his eyes and smell his scent, that Gibbs realized how much he needed Tony. It wasn't just their physical relationship that mattered to him, either. Making sure that Tony was safe and secure, and just plain _happy_ was what made _him_ happy, made that emptiness in his heart disappear, made him love to be in love again. "I love you, Tony." Funny how that wasn't at all difficult to say aloud when he was saying it to Tony.

"Love you, too," Tony said, and this time his smile came from the heart. "Jethro?"

"Yeah?"

"Will you just hold me, before Ducky comes back? I need…I need…"

God, how could he resist such a plea? Gibbs wrapped his arms around Tony and captured him, dragging him back down until their chests met. He nuzzled Tony's neck and inhaled deeply. "You smell like coffee." Gibbs licked his lips and beamed with a satisfied smile. He watched Tony's eyes widen a little, his lips parting in response. A flush rose from Tony's neck to spread across his cheeks, coloring them a dusky pink, and when Tony licked his own lips, Gibbs thought he'd never seen anything quite so arousing. He slid a hand behind Tony's neck and pulled him down for a kiss and the way that Tony moaned as soon as their lips touched made Gibbs forget that this was not the time or place. His hands were in Tony's hair, tugging at him, claiming him with his kisses, groaning when Tony sucked on his tongue. Gibbs' hips jerked of their own accord, and Tony, who was lying against Gibbs' good side, thrust his hips in time to the thrusts of their tongues.

Aware that Ducky was about to return at any moment to take Tony away, Gibbs ended the kiss with a groan. "Tony…" They were both panting, alternately clinging and pushing each other away, swearing and laughing and Gibbs was trembling a little, his need was so great.

It was Tony who slipped off the bed, saying, "Okay, okay, we can wait. I can do this." He hurried over to stand by the door, wiping his mouth and trying to hide his smile but failing miserably. He said in a husky voice, "You'd better be there tonight, Jethro, because if you don't turn up I'm gonna come looking for you."

Ducky said briskly from the hallway, "Ready to go, young man?"

"See you later," Gibbs promised, knowing that nothing but _nothing_ was going to keep him from Tony's side that evening.

*** end chapter 53 ***


	54. Ducky's

After submitting to another chest x-ray and a few more tests, Gibbs dozed for a couple of hours, which made up for his lack of sleep over the past couple of nights. When he awoke it was to discover that a tray of food had been left at his bedside. The sandwich and soup were easy enough to eat single-handed, and didn't taste half bad, but he refused to touch the institutional-green jell-o. As a reward for eating his lunch, the nurse brought Gibbs and extra-large, extra-strong cup of coffee from the doctor's lounge, which more than made up for the mediocre meal.

Mike Franks didn't make it in for a visit, but he phoned and Gibbs listened to his boss gripe about how his twenty-year-old son, Liam, had taken away his car keys, shoes and pants, and was forcing him to take it easy. Franks grumbled about doctors and the way antibiotics wreaked havoc with his system, insisted that his leg wound was fine, and then he and Gibbs compared notes on the case. Franks may not have been able to make it to the Navy Yard, but he was keeping in contact with Jenny and Stan, who called him with regular updates on the status of the investigation. The forensics people at NCIS were busy matching up Harding's trophies with missing military men, and apparently were making good headway.

Gibbs asked Franks about the camera that Harding had used. It turned out to be digital, and the only pictures in its memory were ones taken that night of Petty Officer Charlie Kovacs; none had been taken of Tony, much to Gibbs' relief.

The photographs that Harding had taken of Tony four years earlier had been destroyed, thanks to Mike Franks; the videos that Pacci had found at Harding's in-town house were a decade old, filmed long before Harding had even met Tony. "So Tony's name won't come into it, won't be linked to Harding," Gibbs said, seeking assurance.

"No, Probie. Your boy's history with Harding is history, and nobody will be any the wiser."

***

The rest of the day was a matter of hurry up and wait. By six o'clock Gibbs was frustrated and actively planning to commandeer a crutch so he could hobble his way out, when Dr. Winter showed up and gave him the all-clear. Of course his release came with four pages of instructions to take home, a couple of bottles of pills with suspiciously small writing on the labels, and a short lecture about limiting his physical activity for several days.

Then finally, _finally_ , someone unhooked the IVs and monitors and handed Gibbs his discharge papers, and after another stretch of waiting, Stan Burley turned up with the offer to drive him wherever he wanted to go.

"I ran by your home and grabbed some things I thought you might need," said Stan, raising a gym bag in his hand. "Enough for a couple of days. You want anything else?"

"Just to get the hell out of here," Gibbs said firmly.

***

It was well after seven when Gibbs limped in the front door of Ducky's house. He was exhausted and hurting, although that was his own fault for not taking any of the pain pills they'd sent home with him. Stan didn't stay, just came in long enough to see Gibbs safely inside the door and into Ducky's capable hands.

Ducky came forward to greet him with Tony by his side, and the next thing Gibbs knew, he had an armful of Tony, hugging him so hard he was afraid that they were going to end up on the floor. "Hey, hey! What's all this?"

Tony said fervently, his breath warm on Gibbs' neck, "I missed you so much."

Secretly, Gibbs felt the same way even if it had only been six hours, but all he did was grunt in response.

Ducky steadied Gibbs with a hand on his shoulder when he listed to one side, and said insistently, "Anthony, I believe that Jethro would feel much more comfortable sitting down."

Tony eased up on his hug and said, "Oh, sure. You can lean on me."

"Yeah, I know I can," Gibbs said to Tony, smiling happily, for the moment forgetting his aches and pains.

"We got a bedroom down here ready for you, so you won't have to climb any stairs. I can bring you breakfast in bed tomorrow," Tony said eagerly. "And I got my wallet when we picked up some of my stuff from the hotel, so I bought you some French roast coffee. It's really rich and dark, exactly how you like it."

"Thanks," said Gibbs, a little taken aback. He wasn't used to anyone buying him gifts, even something as simple as coffee.

Ducky cleared his throat and said, "Anthony, please support Jethro while I assist him to remove his jacket."

Gibbs extricated himself from Tony and slipped off his jacket with Ducky's help. The way they were fussing over him, Gibbs wondered which one was going to end up babying him the most, Ducky or Tony.

Before hanging the jacket up, Ducky dipped a hand into a pocket and pulled out Gibbs' pills. "Ah, yes. I thought I'd find these in here. Hmmm, you should take them with food. They gave you instructions for at-home care?"

"In there," Gibbs said reluctantly, indicating the duffle bag that Stan had dropped by the front door. He had planned on tossing the paperwork without even reading it, as Ducky damned well knew. "It's not like I don't know it all by heart."

Tony looked Gibbs up and down, taking in his injured arm in its sling, and the leg he was barely putting any weight on. "Which side do you want me on?"

"I can walk," Gibbs said grumpily. Ducky and Tony raised their eyebrows in tandem, which would have been funny under different circumstances. Gibbs sighed and lifted his left arm, slinging it around Tony's shoulders.

Tony slipped his arm around Gibbs' waist and asked, "You want food or do you want to rest?"

The aroma coming from the direction of the kitchen was enticing so Gibbs said adamantly, "Food." Tony guided him into the dining room and pulled out the chair at the head of the table. In a good mood because he was out of the hospital and in the company of friends, Gibbs took the pills that Ducky placed in front of him without making any fuss. A delicious-smelling casserole with hot rolls on the side was served a few minutes later, and Gibbs found he had quite an appetite. Even with his right arm immobilized, Gibbs had no trouble eating the meal with a spoon held in his left hand. He looked up to find Ducky was keeping an eye on him to make sure he wasn't having any trouble, and Gibbs nodded his thanks.

Midway through Ducky's story about a left-handed cricket player, Gerald joined them, and Ducky introduced Gibbs to the young man who rented the top floor of his house. "Gerald is a bright young medical student who seems far more interested in the scientific side of medicine than the human aspect."

"I envy Dr. Mallard because his patients can't talk back," Gerald said with a laugh as he buttered a roll. "I'm currently doing a study in the hospital's smoking cessation clinic, otherwise known as Tar Wars, and have to deal with people going through withdrawal every day. Man, I'd so much rather be in a lab. Just give me a petri dish and a little Y. pestis and I will be one happy camper."

Ducky looked at Gerald, one eyebrow raised, and said, "I assure you that my guests have plenty of stories to tell; one simply needs to listen in order to hear them."

Throughout the dinner, conversation was kept light, with no mention of Harding or the case, which was fine as far as Gibbs was concerned. He was content to eat and to watch Tony, who seemed to be his usual self, although he sat a bit closer to him than was strictly necessary. Occasionally Gibbs would feel Tony's hand upon his knee, hidden from sight under the dining table, and if touching him made Tony feel better, then that was all right by him. After all, Gibbs liked the physical bond, and having Tony by his side gave him, too, a sense of security.

When they'd finished, and the dished had been cleared away, Ducky asked Gibbs to accompany him into the living room to sit by the fire. "Gerald, may I suggest that you and Anthony head into the den?" Tony started to protest but Ducky was firm. "I need a word with Jethro, and I'm sure that you young men can find something diverting on the television. I do believe, through no fault of my own, that the cable company has inadvertently given me access to the Playboy channel…"

Gerald didn't need any more prompting, and shortly after he disappeared into the den down the hall, Gibbs heard the low murmur of the TV. Tony was still standing in the middle of the living room, torn between remaining close and following Gerald, so Gibbs waved him away. "We'll have plenty of time later on. Go."

Tony hesitated then dashed to Gibbs' side to give him a quick hug before heading off to join Gerald.

***

Ducky pulled a large envelope out of a desk drawer and handed it to Gibbs. "One of Agent Fornell's men, an Agent Esposito, brought this over shortly before you arrived. He indicated that Agent Fornell included a transcript of your statements."

After dropping into a wingback chair on the other side of the fireplace from Ducky, Gibbs dumped the contents of the envelope onto his lap. As well as the paperwork, there was an audiocassette tape bearing a case number and the date, and a large sticker that warned that it was the property of the FBI. There was also a note from Fornell that said, 'For your ears only.'

Ducky poured himself a drink and brought Gibbs a ginger ale, and then placed a cassette player on the table by Gibbs' elbow. "Gerald kindly provided a set of earphones, in case you want privacy when listening to that tape, Jethro."

Gibbs sipped his drink and sighed, wishing for something stronger than soda. His thigh was feeling a lot better now that the pain medication had kicked in, and for a change the meds weren't making him drowsy. He felt like a wuss, barely being able to make it from one side of a room to the other without grabbing onto the furniture for support. Putting the transcript and tape aside for now, Gibbs asked, "How'd it go with Kovacs? Tony get along with him okay?"

"Ah yes, well, it was a bit difficult at first, but Anthony sat with Petty Officer Kovacs and talked to him for a while." Ducky peered thoughtfully at his drink. "At first it was rather one-sided, but you know how Anthony can carry on a conversation without any help from anyone else," Ducky observed, chuckling. "Mostly about movies: 'The Great Escape,' 'Bullitt,' 'The Getaway.' He appears to have a fascination with Steve McQueen's folding-frame sunglasses." Ducky shook his head, amused, and continued. "It was enough to encourage Charlie Kovacs to talk – for the first time since he was brought in, apparently. I couldn't hear what Kovacs said, as his voice was very soft, but then my intention was not to pry, only to keep an eye on the two young men from the other side of the observation window. Kovac's doctor was quite pleased at the breakthrough."

"Tony's a good boy. People open up to him," Gibbs said, thinking that included him, too.

Ducky eyed Gibbs and said, "Much as Melissa Parrish opened up to him. Anthony would make a good investigator…if he weren't going to become a football star."

It took a moment for Gibbs to figure out who Ducky was talking about, and then he remembered the crime scene he'd taken Tony to on Saturday. Hard to believe that it was only a couple of days ago that Lance Cpl. Parrish had been found face down in his driveway with multiple stab wounds to his back. "Murder on the Orient Express," Gibbs murmured.

"Quite so."

If Tony hadn't figured out that Parrish's fourteen-year-old daughter had been sleeping with her step-brother, the agents may not have come to the conclusion that Melissa and Bobby had murdered their father, or not so soon. Except that it looked like the mother, Mrs. Parrish, was taking the rap for her children. Suddenly feeling very old, Gibbs sighed. "Hell, Ducky, it seems like it was weeks ago."

"Yes it does. A lifetime ago. So much can change in a few short hours, my friend." Ducky rose and prodded the logs in the fireplace with an iron poker, then took his seat again. "Anyway, as you can imagine, Petty Officer Kovacs was quite traumatized by his ordeal while in Senator Harding's hands. There were ligature marks around his neck and wrists, as well as some horrendous bruises and other injuries, although most were hidden under his hospital gown. But Anthony sat there talking to the young man as if he were chatting with a college friend in a coffee shop. At one point, when it appeared that Kovacs was retreating into his shell again, Anthony sat on the bed and faced him. At first I thought that Anthony was saying his good-byes, but then he did something quite extraordinary, quite brave. He removed his jersey, lifted it right over his head and showed young Kovacs evidence of the injuries their tormentor had inflicted upon him. With that one, simple act, he proved to Kovacs that he was not alone, that someone else understood what he was going through. It must have been very difficult for Anthony to have exposed himself in such a way, laying himself so bare." Ducky took a moment and then said quietly, "Charlie Kovacs was quite overcome, as you can imagine, and I suspect that Anthony was also affected, though his emotions were under control by the time we left."

Gibbs nodded, proud of Tony for being so open, for taking that kind of chance with Kovacs. "Tony's got a lot of heart. Good instincts."

"Unfortunately Anthony is also impulsive, which is what led him to take matters into his own hands. That young man is very lucky to have come through relatively unscathed. It could have been so much worse for him," said Ducky with a shake of his head.

"He thought he was helping me, Duck, going off on his own to get evidence for a warrant," Gibbs countered, defending Tony's actions even though he agreed with Ducky. Tony had come so damned close to getting himself raped and killed it sent shivers up Gibbs' spine.

"On the other hand," said the ME, "if Anthony hadn't made that audacious move, your raid on the senator's estate would have been delayed, and instead of finding Kovacs alive, we would now be delivering his body to his family. Anthony meant well, Jethro."

Suddenly angry, Gibbs snapped, "I don't care how noble Tony's intentions were, Duck, he was wrong. He acted like a teenager, running straight into danger with no thought for anyone else, or giving a shit about the trouble he might be causing. He could have damned well told us what he was planning and he'd have had backup without us scrambling to follow that limo. We almost lost, him, dammit! Just like his damned father, doing whatever the hell he wants, and the hell with anyone who might happen to care–" Gibbs leaned back and rested his head on the back of the chair, his hand covering his eyes. He swore under his breath, "Shit." He swallowed and said tiredly, "Forget I said that. He's nothing like his father."

For a long time there was no sound except for an occasional pop from the burning logs in the fireplace, then Ducky finished up his drink and rose to his feet. He stood by Gibbs and laid a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. "You make sure you get plenty of rest, Jethro. I'll send Anthony in to show you the bedroom. It's just down the hallway, bathroom attached. I'm sure you'll find it is quite comfortable, but should you want anything, there is an intercom button on the phone on the bedside table. You could shout, but walls in this old house are so thick you cannot hear what's going on in the next room, so just buzz and I'll come down."

"Night Ducky."

"Good night, my boy. I wish you only the best of dreams." Ducky was at the doorway when he turned and said, "Oh, and in case Anthony hasn't mentioned it, with his permission I phoned the dean of his college earlier, and was able to get him a leave of absence through the end of the week."

"Thanks, Ducky," said Gibbs, surprised and thankful that he'd have Tony with him for longer than he'd anticipated, and for having such a good friend as Ducky. "For everything."

Ducky smiled and said, "You should remember that although Anthony might not show the same signs of trauma as Petty Officer Kovacs, he has also been through a terrible experience."

After Ducky had gone, Gibbs stuck the FBI surveillance tape into the cassette recorder, attached the headphones, and pressed the play button.

***

Gibbs had to hand it to the FBI technicians, the quality of the tape was so clear that at times he could hear Tony breathing. It was strange, being seated comfortably in front of the fire in Ducky's home, staring at the flickering flames while listening to the audio through the headphones and seeing Tony in his mind's eye.

***

Tony was standing out front of the Excelsior Hotel, his cell phone to his ear, talking to Senator Harding – to Sir. "I'm in front of the Excelsior. Yes, Sir. I'll be waiting, Sir." Then there was a click, and under his breath Tony said, "This had better work." Then, in a barely audible whisper, Tony said, "If you're listening, Gibbs, and I know you are: I'm not sorry. About anything."

A limousine pulled up and the rear window lowered smoothly. Senator Harding, gray-haired and handsome, confident and powerful, sat in the back of the limo. He leaned forward and said, "My, my, looks like Anthony has finally come to his senses and decided to hand you over, after all."

The past came rushing at Tony, a physical wall of memories that barreled in headlong, bringing with it a terror that made his heart rate quicken. The voices in his head screamed at him to flee, the blood pounded in his ears and he couldn’t catch his breath; he was paralyzed, was going to pass out.

 _No, no!_ _DiNozzos don't pass out._

He hadn't come face-to-face with Harding in four years, not since the beach house in the Hamptons, but it was just like it was happening all over again. Only somehow it seemed much worse this time, maybe because he knew what to expect.

Standing out in front of the Excelsior, he was confronted by the man who'd tied him down and brutalized him right under his father's roof, not even caring that Senior was in the next room and could hear every whimper and moan. This was the rapist who had terrorized Tony so badly that he was convinced he was going to die; he stopped struggling and simply gave up. He'd lain there trembling like a scared little rabbit, making mewling sounds, pissing himself and crying for his daddy to come and rescue him.

***

_Tony had confided in Gibbs, had told him while angrily brushing away the tears, "He got really mad, kept yelling at me to stop being a baby, to show some fight, to be a little soldier. And then my dad, he came in, and they had a fight, sh-shouting at each other. I…I couldn’t m-move."_

***

"I've been waiting a long time for you, Junior."

"I…I don't think I…"

A car door opened and Harding stepped out of the limo. Tony made a startled sound and the senator said testily, "I have been very patient, Junior, for your father's sake. But now you will come with me." After a pause, Harding said in a low, rumbling voice, thick with need, "You are now mine, Junior."

"It's Tony," said Tony. Then, louder, he asserted, "My name is Tony, not Junior, Senator Harding. I'm Tony DiNozzo and I don't want to go with you–"

***

Gibbs paused the tape and finished his drink, telling himself that the slight tremor in his hand was because of the pain meds he'd taken at dinnertime. This next section was the part of the surveillance tape he hadn't yet heard and, frankly, he didn't want to listen to whatever had gone on right after Tony had entered that limo. Agent Greene had filled Gibbs in on what he'd missed, a brief description, but Gibbs needed to hear this for himself, knowing that there was more to it than the FBI agent had revealed. He had to listen to the tape as part of his job, but he also needed to understand what had happened to Tony. After placing his empty glass on the side table, Gibbs adjusted the headphones and started the tape rolling once again.

***

Tony gasped in pain.

Harding ordered, "Get in. Don't make me tell you again because I get annoyed when I have to repeat myself, and you won't like it if I get annoyed."

The door slammed and a minute later the limo pulled away from the hotel.

Harding poured himself a drink and then said, "I have wine, but I suspect you're more of a beer or soda kind of boy. No? You sure your mouth isn't dry? I have a bottle of water."

"I'm fine," said Tony sullenly.

"Call me Sir," barked the senator. "You are to call me Sir at all times. Try again, and remember that for every mistake you make, I'll take it out twofold on your sweet ass once you're securely tied up at my house."

After a long pause, Tony said through gritted teeth, "I don't want anything to drink. Sir."

Harding laughed. "Good God, you remind me so much of Anthony it brings back old memories. He ever tell you about our time together at Yale? How he'd do anything for my attention? Little cocksucker," he said almost fondly. Tony didn't respond, so Harding said, "Kneel here, in front of me. Closer. The past isn't what interests me. You interest me, and although I was thinking that Anthony was being a bad, bad boy to keep you from me all this time, now I see he was preparing you for this moment. See the way your body responds to me? Such lovely little nipples." Tony gave a small cry of pain. "You're ripe, like a peach, Junior, and I cannot wait to sink my teeth in your ass."

"That's the lamest line I've ever heard," Tony said derisively, panting a little. Almost as an afterthought he added, "Oh yeah… _Sir_."

"Your father held out on me, Junior. Yes, he did, in more ways than one. But I'll forgive him because despite everything, in the end he sold you to me. It was for a good sum of money. Did you know that?"

"My father wouldn't–" Tony protested, but the sound of doubt colored his refusal to believe his father would do anything so despicable as sell his own child.

"No, I didn't think Anthony had the guts to tell you that he was selling his own son to the highest bidder. It was either to me or to one of those friends of his in Dubai; you were very, very expensive. God, I am so glad Anthony finally understood that I know what's best for you. And, believe me, I plan to get my money's worth out of you. You're going to be my special pet, chained to my bedside, always there to greet me when I come home. We are going to be together for a long, long time, Junior, for many years. God, just thinking about that makes me hard," Harding said with a satisfied laugh.

"You'll never get away with this!"

"God, to think you're so naïve. It's so refreshing…and so wrong, Junior. You are mine to play with, to hurt, to teach, to do whatever the hell I want to with you, and I am planning some wonderful games for us. I am very good at what I do, and I've had a lot of practice. You are going to love it, Junior, when I've worked on your body until it's bleeding and broken, and you're so damned high from pain you're going to come like never before, going to see the fucking great light!"

Tony sneered, "Yeah, well, forgive me if I say your games sound like a load of bullshit, Sir."

"We're going to have to work on your language, Junior. Let's start by getting those clothes off." Harding demanded, "What the fuck is this?" Then he laughed in disbelief. "You're wearing a chastity belt? What the hell is Anthony playing at? Never mind, as soon as we're in my little playroom I'll cut it off and then we can get down to business. Oh, I am so looking forward to this, although I have to finish off the little treat I still have tied up in my playroom. Tell you what, if you're a good little soldier, I might even let you help me finish him off. Would you like that? He can suck your dick while I wrap my hands around his neck, choking him ever so slowly, and his last act on this earth will be getting you off. Oh yeah, this is going to be so damned good."

Tony's voice was trembling with fear but he said brazenly, "You're fucked-up crazy. How the hell did you ever get elected to senator?"

There was a small scuffle that ended with Tony punching Harding, and then taking a blow himself. He fell with a loud grunt at his captor's feet.

Harding said in a flinty tone, "These cuffs will keep you in line, Junior, but if you ever raise your hand to me again I'll cut one of your fingers off for every time you strike me. Understand? I asked, do you understand?"

Tony squealed in pain and then cried, "Yes, Sir!"

"Sit up and drink this water." Tony made sounds of refusal from between tightly clenched lips, but Harding said, "If you don't, I'll cut your index finger off right now and toss it out the window. There, that's right, drink some more."

Tony drank until he coughed and spluttered and Harding finally said, "That'll take you down a notch. There's a special additive to the R2 that'll bring you down right away. It acts immediately…there…see, isn't that amazing?"

"F-fuck off, Sir," Tony croaked.

"You know how much I love to see you struggle? Last time you were a sniveling baby but this time it's different; there's nobody going to come to the rescue, little rabbit. And this time you know exactly what's coming and that turns you on, doesn't it? I can see it in your eyes, feel the way you're shaking. Yeah, you're aroused all right. What a pain-slut you are, Junior. That's one thing Anthony did right, training you that pleasure comes with pain, that you have to endure and ride it to the crest, and accept its intensity as the ultimate high so you can rise above it. Isn't that right, Junior?"

Harding unzipped his fly. "Yeah, now you're going to be a good little boy and put those pretty lips around my cock. C'mon, Junior, don't you keep me waiting," Harding warned. "Oh, you need some pain to get that sensation, don't you? Let me take care of you."

Tony screamed. "Fuck, fuck," he cried between ragged breaths. "You fucking burned me! I am so…fucking…g-gonna kill you," Tony promised between gasps.

Harding ignored the threat. "Now get to it. C'mon, I haven't got all night."

"I don't…don'…oh God…my head…I can't…"

"That's the R2 kicking in, don't fight it, Junior. It'll make you feel so good. Now, I keep hearing business associates saying how good you are at sucking dick, so prove it before we have to stop to pick up my guest."

"Don’t wan' your dick…" Tony slurred.

"You be a good boy, make your dad proud. That's it. God, yeah, that's it…that's good. You feel so good. Oh yeah, such tender skin, smooth like a baby. You like my cock, don't you, and I'll just bet you're getting hard inside that chastity belt. C'mon, you can take more of me than that."

"Mmm…uhhh…"

"Too bad you can't come, isn't it, with your dick trapped in there?" Harding groaned. "Fuck, yeah, that's good…Oh, oh, oh, yes! That's it, that's…"

***

Gibbs sat in front of the fire for a long time, his eyes closed, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose, trying to keep his emotions at bay. He tried really hard to forget the image burned into his mind of Tony sucking and tonguing Senator Harding's erect cock, of Tony being a good boy, just like his father had taught him to be. Gibbs could hear Harding crying out as he came, his voice as clear as if he was right in the same room, and he reminded himself that the sounds were the echoes of the dead.

And worse, he could see Tony, literally feel his agony – Tony stuck in a drug-induced, unspeakable hell, hands cuffed behind his back, curled in a ball at Harding's feet – Tony whispering the same word again and again, through swollen lips. "Jethro. Jethro…Jethro…"

*** end chapter 54 ***


	55. In Knots

Gibbs tapped his knuckles lightly against the door to the connecting bathroom. "Hey, you okay in there?"

It took a minute but right after the toilet flushed the door opened. Tony appeared, barefoot and wearing sweatpants, a bath towel slung casually around his neck. Gibbs sensed that it was not by accident that the towel concealed most of Tony's bare chest. He didn't understand it. It wasn't as if he hadn't already seen the contusions, burns and bruises that marred Tony's smooth skin, so why all of a sudden was Tony acting so self-conscious?

"All yours," Tony said, his open smile contradicting the way he was covering his body. He slipped past Gibbs without touching him, leaving the scent of soap and toothpaste in his wake.

To the casual observer, it would seem that Tony was coping extraordinarily well, considering everything he'd been through. Sure, there were marks all over his body, and the stitches in his scalp were visible since he'd removed the bandage, but he was acting as if everything that had gone down over the past few days was nothing, as if it never happened.

Gibbs told himself not to worry. Tony had seemed perfectly fine earlier when he'd gone to fetch him from the den. Tony and Gerald had just finished watching a soft-porn flick, and were joking around about the well-endowed male actors on the screen.

***–***

"They should come up with standard size chart for men's dicks," Tony said thoughtfully, taking a handful of popcorn from a large bowl sitting on the couch between him and Gerald. "Like they use down at that new coffee place: tall, grande and venti."

Gerald laughed and asked, "Let me guess, you wouldn't be a venti by any chance? I'm more concerned with the potatoes than the meat, if you know what I mean. How about golf, baseball, and soccer sizes?"

Elbowing Gerald, Tony rolled his eyes and said, "Yeah, and of course you're the soccer size."

"Of course, man."

Gibbs chose that moment to step into their line of sight, and he suggested, "How 'bout derringer, magnum, or shotgun?"

Tony jumped to his feet with a big grin on his face as soon as he saw Gibbs. "Hey, I love Magnum! Want some popcorn?" He held out the almost empty bowl.

Gibbs shook his head. "C'mon Magnum, I'm beat. Show me where we're sleeping."

Tony said goodnight to Gerald and led the way to their room, rattling on about his favorite TV show and Thomas Magnum's red Ferrari. "…black spoiler on the rear of the roof panel, steel bodied, rear wheel drive…"

***–***

If Gibbs didn't know any better, he'd have thought that Tony was fine. The only thing was that he _did_ know better, and his gut was telling him that something was wrong. It wasn't what Tony was saying, so much as the way he was saying it. Sort of hyper, sharp, as if he were trying to fill a void with as many words as possible. Like one of those old shell games where the goal was to misdirect, to keep the mark from seeing the truth. _All right folks, step right up, just keep your eye on the pea. See if you can win the prize._

Pretending it never happened – was this was Tony's reaction to the danger, the brutality, the sheer cruelty of it all? Tony had become a casualty of Harding's twisted plans, and the shock from getting an up-close-up-and-personal view of the senator's violent death was enough to make the strongest of people run and hide. No doubt Tony believed that if he didn't mention it, didn't let it get to him, that it would all go away. He pushed it aside, insisting, 'Hey, it happened but it's over, and I can just walk around it and it won't affect me, right?'

Gibbs had to remember that Tony had never been subjected to anything like this before, this level of violence. But now he'd been tortured, drugged and held against his will, and nobody, especially someone so young, could possibly come so close to such darkness and come out unscathed.

***–***

Gibbs looked into the bathroom, a hand on the doorjamb for balance, wincing slightly when he put too much weight on his right leg. Under the lingering scent of a lemon-scented cleaning product he caught a whiff of vomit. The tiled floor, the sink, the toilet – all looked spotless; Tony had cleaned up after himself. There didn't seem to be any cause for alarm; Tony wasn't pale or sweaty so whatever had caused him to throw up didn't seem to be lingering. It was probably from indulging in too much buttered popcorn on top of a big meal.

Gibbs watched as Tony rummaged around in a bag on the other side of the bed. He pulled out a long-sleeved knit jersey and pajama bottoms, and kept his back to Gibbs when he pulled them on. That in itself was unusual – hiding his body from sight – because the Tony that Gibbs knew was open to the point of being an exhibitionist. It was one more symptom that something wasn't right.

Deciding he didn't want to leave Tony alone for too long, Gibbs grabbed his toiletries and a pair of clean boxers and a fresh white undershirt, and took his turn in the bathroom. He left the door slightly ajar in case Tony needed him, and removed his sling and washed himself as well as he could, wishing he could just jump in the shower. He'd have to wait until tomorrow. Luckily Stan had packed Gibbs' electric shaver. He used his right hand until his forearm ached and he had to switch to his left. Sort of clumsy but he got the job done. After some consideration, Gibbs decided to do without the support of the sling and he put it aside.

When he was finished, Gibbs emerged to find Tony lying on the far side of the big bed, the blanket pulled up to his hips, waiting with a slightly anxious expression on his face. God, he looked gorgeous, even all banged up, with his hair falling over his forehead, his green eyes big and expressive, and those lips…just asking to be kissed. Gibbs smiled warmly and said, "I've been waiting all day for this," and Tony's anxiety disappeared.

"Finally, we're alone." Tony stuck his hands behind his head and teased, "Ready to have your way with me, Jethro?"

Gibbs noticed that Tony had unwrapped the gauze from his wrists, exposing the abrasions caused by the leather cuffs. The underside of both of Tony's wrists were bruised and looked sore, and if Harding had been standing in the room at that moment, Gibbs would have killed him once again, with his bare hands.

Tony tensed, picking up on Gibbs' anger. "Are you…coming to bed?"

Gibbs cursed at himself for letting his hatred for Harding spoil this moment and he had to fight to put his dark thoughts aside. "Sure am," he said with a smile. He paused, though, torn between the need to slip into bed with his warm, loving Tony, to give him the attention he obviously craved, and the need to talk to him first.

The thought of talking, however, made Gibbs' heart race; he would almost rather face an armed terrorist than discuss things like feelings. No, he had to talk to Tony, and he had to do it now, before this went any further. As Ducky had pointed out, if they didn't have a solid foundation to begin with, then whatever he and Tony built together wasn't going to last.

Accepting what needed to be done, Gibbs limped around to Tony's side of the bed without any further delay and sat down, facing him. He reached out and laid his hand on Tony's thigh where it was covered by the blanket, and gave it a gentle squeeze. "I had some time to think this afternoon," he said.

Tony looked at him with amusement. "Oh yeah? You sure that's a smart thing to do in your condition?"

Narrowing his eyes, Gibbs retorted, "Even in my condition, as you call it, I'm still capable of tossing you out on your ear. Maybe you want to sleep up in the attic with Gerald?"

"Uh, no. I'd rather sleep right here with my big, bad Marine," replied Tony, wiggling his eyebrows playfully.

"Then listen up, 'cause the sooner I get this said, the sooner we can move on to the good stuff."

"The good stuff? I'm all ears," assured Tony, looking intrigued. He plumped up his pillow and moved his hips a little, getting comfortable. In doing so, his shirt rode up and exposed a few inches of smooth, unmarred skin, and the shadowed dip of his belly button.

Gibbs' dick twitched with interest at the way Tony was looking at him hungrily from under his eyelashes. He had half a mind to say the hell with the all-important talk and just climb in beside Tony and show him how loved he was. Instead, Gibbs cleared his throat and said slowly, "Well, you know that spare bedroom upstairs? I was thinking I'd clean it out, first chance I get. Full of junk right now. I…uh…I sorta let things go after…" Tony was looking at him expectantly and Gibbs thought this was just about as scary as the first time he asked a girl out on a date. He knew why this was so difficult – because it was so important and he was petrified of messing it up. Well, he just had to get it said. "Uh, maybe put a desk and a TV in there. It needs a fresh coat of paint, bookshelves. Got some wood in the basement."

Gibbs studied Tony's face, trying to gauge what he was thinking, but it was impossible to tell what was going on in his mind. The eager smile of a moment ago was gone. There was no emotion to be seen, only a blank stare, and that worried Gibbs. What the hell had he said to cause such a reaction? It wasn't like fixing up the spare bedroom was such a far-fetched idea – Tony himself had suggested that Gibbs could rent him a room during the summer vacation.

Gibbs asked, "So what d'you think? Tony?"

After a moment, Tony blinked and seemed to collect himself. He lowered his arms and crossed them over his chest. With a tight smile, he said in an off-handed manner, "That'll be nice for visitors."

"Yeah, well, I haven't exactly encouraged any visitors lately, not since…" Gibbs ran a hand over his mouth and blurted, a bit too loudly, "Look, you're going back to college–"

Tony quickly sat up. "You know, I think I've changed my mind about sleeping here. I'm really tired, and with your arm and leg being hurt…I'm going upstairs." Tony untangled his legs from the sheets and started to slip out of bed but Gibbs blocked him with an outstretched arm.

"Hey! Why're you going? I'm not finished," Gibbs said.

"I can't…not now. I've got to…"

Tony tried to avoid Gibbs by sliding to the other side of the bed, but Gibbs grabbed him by the arm before he got very far and pulled him back. "Tony–"

"Let me go!" Tony cried, sounding a bit panicky.

"Okay! Okay, Just…stay. Give me a chance." Gibbs saw that his fingers were wrapped around Tony's wrist, touching the skin that had been rubbed raw by the damned cuffs. He immediately released Tony's arm and watched helplessly as Tony scooted back until he was sitting against the headboard with his knees drawn to his chest. At least Tony wasn't running away, but he wouldn’t look Gibbs in the eye and he seemed to be getting paler by the minute. Careful to keep his hands to himself, Gibbs said, in as calm a voice as he could muster, "I just want to talk, to tell you–"

Tony looked longingly in the direction of the bathroom. "I-I've got to brush my teeth–"

Gibbs snapped, "You already brushed them, Tony." At least five times since Gibbs had arrived at Ducky's. "Hear me out, Tony. Will you please stay put and listen to me?"

Tony hugged his knees and looked everywhere except at Gibbs.

"Tony?"

Tony lifted one shoulder in an indifferent shrug. "I'm here, aren't I?"

"Yeah, you're here. You going to be sick again?" That made Tony look at him, surprised.

Tony dropped his eyes again. "No," he said in a small voice.

"You want to tell me what caused it?"

Tony's answer was a quick shake of his head and Gibbs decided not to press the issue. "Okay. But you tell me if you don't feel good," Gibbs said, making it an order. It was only after Tony gave a small nod that Gibbs took a deep breath and said, "When you're back at college…when you have a break…I'd like it if…" Shit, he had to get this said, and fast, because he had a feeling that Tony was about to make a run for it. If Tony took off there was no way, with his bad leg, that Gibbs could run after him, especially if he went upstairs. "What I'm trying to say is that everybody needs a place to come home to, and I was thinking that if you wanted to, maybe you could make my house your home."

Tony lifted his eyes and he stared at Gibbs as if he was speaking a foreign language. "My home?"

With a fluttering in his stomach that felt suspiciously like fear, Gibbs said, "Yeah, a home. No strings attached or anything." He waited hopefully but he didn't think his meaning had sunk in yet.

"No strings?" Tony asked with a slight frown.

Gibbs forged ahead and explained, "You want somewhere to stay, or need someone to talk to, you can just turn up. I can't promise I'll always be there, with my work schedule and all, but the door will always be open to you, Tony. If you want to, bring someone for the weekend. They'll be welcome. And, later on, when you get married and have kids and want to come home for the holidays, we can have Thanksgiving or Chri-"

Sitting up straight, Tony demanded angrily, "Wait! Wait a minute! Why the fuck would I want to get married, Jethro?"

Taken aback at Tony's tone, Gibbs said, "You're young and you might want to have a family one day."

"I don't want a family, Jethro. I mean, I've already got one; you and Ducky."

Gibbs shook his head. "You don't know that you won't want a family, not at your age."

Tony retorted loudly, "What? You're saying I'm some dumb kid who can't possibly know what I want?"

Gibbs reasoned, "No, but things change. When you're a teenager your needs are different from those of an adult. You'll want–"

"I know what I want, Jethro. I've always known I like dick, and the first moment I saw you coming across the lawn, out by the pool, I knew it was your dick I wanted. In my mouth, up my ass…"

"Jesus, Tony." Gibbs could feel himself flushing.

"Well, it's true. I thought I might never see you again after last summer, and then you rescued me and took me on one hell of a ride in what has to be the hottest, and frankly, the craziest weekend in my entire life, and it only confirmed what I knew right at the start. That I want you." Tony leaned forward and looked earnestly at Gibbs. "Don't you get it, Jethro? I don't need to look any further because I've found everything in you. I'm just saying that I've got you so I don't need…I'm not _looking_ for…" Tony's voice faltered and a worried expression showed in his eyes. "I…I have got you, haven't I? Or has this just been a lost weekend and you're gonna send me off with an 'It's been nice, had a lot of fun and a lot of hot sex, and you did a damned fine job and we got the bad guy, Tony, so thank you very much, but this is goodbye'?'" Tony's hands clutched at the bedding, somehow managing to look both distressed and hopeful at the same time.

Gibbs was more than a little bit pissed off at Tony thinking he was going to give him the brush-off after everything they'd gone through together – everything they'd promised each other. "Did I say I was going to show you the door? Is that what you think I'm offering you, Tony?"

"I'm not sure exactly what it is you're offering me, Jethro," Tony said, his confusion evident. "You're talking about cleaning junk out of your spare room…about getting a roommate?"

God, Tony really didn't get it. Here he was, trying to give Tony a safe haven and a promise of something more, something permanent, and Tony couldn’t comprehend the concept. His heart going out to his young lover, Gibbs took hold of Tony's hands, although he had to first extricate them from the blanket, and said sincerely, "I want you to think of my house – my home – as your home, Tony. For always. I want…I just want you to be happy."

"Your home would be my home?" asked Tony, frowning in disbelief.

" _Our_ home." Gibbs waited for Tony to reply, anxiety making his stomach churn, and it sunk in just how much this meant to him, having Tony become a constant part of his life, knowing he'd always have a safe and loving place to come home to. "And I don't want a goddamn roommate, DiNozzo."

The crease between Tony's brows disappeared and his eyes opened wide. He blinked a couple of times and a smile turned up the corners of his mouth, and it blossomed and grew, lighting up his entire face. "Oh my God," he whispered. "You're asking me to live with you. You mean it."

Gibbs nodded, saying testily, "Sure I mean it. You ever know me to say anything I don't mean?"

Tony's smile faded a little and he cautiously asked, "And the room you're clearing out…that room is for me?"

"I've got the basement so I figured you'd need some space of your own," Gibbs said with a shrug. "Study, watch TV, whatever you want. Hell, I don't care."

"Am I supposed to sleep there?"

"What the hell would you want to sleep in there for? Isn't there enough room in my bed for both of us?"

Tony threw back his head and laughed. "I think we're gonna need to work on our communication skills, Jethro. But just to make it perfectly clear, if we're going to be living together, sharing a home, then we're sharing a bed, too. I'm not sleeping in some guest room."

"Well, yeah, I thought that _was_ clear. You have to go back to school at the end of the week, but you can come back on holidays and in the summer and–"

"Yes."

"Yes?"

"Yes!" Tony threw himself forward and almost knocked Gibbs off-balance with his enthusiasm. Their mouths met, Tony somehow managing to kiss and smile at the same time.

They wrapped their arms around each other and all Gibbs could think was how he was asking for so much damned trouble and there were going to be a lot of problems to overcome, but on the other hand, fuck, he'd do anything for Tony. Their kiss ended suddenly when a sudden, jagged pain tore through Gibbs' thigh. He pushed Tony away, scrunching up his eyes, unable to speak as he breathed in short gasps through his open mouth.

"Oh shit, I leaned on your leg! I'm so sorry, oh God, let me get Ducky…"

Gibbs grabbed Tony by the arm to stop him from leaving. "Just…give me…a minute." It took more like two minutes before the pain dulled to a thudding rhythm that matched his heartbeat. Gibbs managed a tight smile. "I'm okay now."

Still worried, Tony inspected Gibbs' face to check that he was telling the truth. "You sure? Okay, that's good. Good." Tony's voice rose as he berated Gibbs, demanding, "Because I want to know what the hell makes you think that I don't want there to _be_ strings attached?"

Gibbs couldn’t help but laugh at Tony's pissed-off expression. "If you want them, we'll have strings, lots of strings. We'll tie ourselves up in fucking great knots." He kissed Tony and said, "All I care about is that I don't lose you."

"Yeah, well, good," Tony said, slightly mollified. "And I don't want to hear that you expect me to hook up with anyone else. No marriage, no kids, no white picket fences. It's never gonna happen. Never. You got that?"

"Loud and clear."

"Good, because I'd like to try kissing again, and maybe this time I can do it without hurting you," Tony said, with a smile.

"Just watch where you put your hands." Gibbs figured he could lie on his left side and if Tony lay on his right and faced him, they could probably do a halfway good job of jerking each other off. He needed to make certain that Tony wasn't rushing into this. The last thing he wanted was for Tony to be scared or traumatized by having a man so close to him, touching him all over, having sex – if they got that far tonight. "But are you sure about this, Tony? Absolutely sure? I don't want to push you after everything you've been through. If you don't want to, we can wait." Not that he wanted to wait another minute.

Tony gripped Gibbs' hands and said resolutely, "You are not pushing me into anything I don't want to do. I want this, need this – with you, Jethro. What he did to me, that was ugly and _wrong_ , and it hurt me inside and it made me hate someone like I've never hated anyone in my life. Sure I was scared, and I hated being pawed by the freak and the way he took pleasure in hurting me. He made me feel helpless, like I was some kind of object he could do anything to, and I had no say in anything, that my life meant nothing. But I've…I've dealt with some pretty bad shit in the past few years, and it's taught me how to deal with it. So, what he did to me, it means nothing. Nothing, you understand?"

Tony took Gibbs' face in both of his hands and kissed him tenderly. "But us, you and me, that's different. That's love, and trust…and that's everything. So let's not talk about the bad shit any more, and concentrate on us, okay?"

Gibbs pulled Tony into his arms and hugged him, tucking his face into Tony's neck and letting the feeling of him, his scent just take over. Tony's hands were rubbing circles in Gibbs' back, and Gibbs thought how strange that it was he who needed comfort, and that it was Tony who was so generous about giving it.

"You okay there?" Tony murmured, sounding a bit emotional.

Gibbs inhaled raggedly and pulled back so he could kiss Tony. It was a soft and loving brush of lips upon lips, just a promise to what was to come. He motioned towards Tony's long-sleeved shirt. "But you've been hiding…"

Tony blushed a little and shrugged. "The marks, they're sorta gross, especially the burns, but I've covered them with band-aids. I thought you wouldn’t want to look at them."

"They don't bother me. When I see them, they remind me of how brave you are." Gibbs lifted his hand to cup Tony's cheek, and said, "We'll talk more later. Sort out some details, but right now I'd like to get into bed with you." He wouldn’t bring up the half-dozen times that Tony had brushed his teeth. If that's what it took for him to cope, then so be it.

"Can we go _home_ tomorrow?"

Smiling at the way Tony had used the word 'home' as if it were a precious thing, Gibbs said, "Yeah. We'll go home tomorrow."

Gibbs carefully climbed into his side of the bed, and lay down facing Tony.

Tony slid down a bit and rolled onto his right side, settling close to Gibbs. He picked at the edge of the blanket and asked, "Jethro?"

"Mmm?" Gibbs kissed Tony's cheek and then nuzzled just under his jaw, risking a lick to Tony's neck.

"Oh…nice. Um…you know that room you're fixing up? Does it have its own bathroom?"

"Uh, yeah," Gibbs mumbled absently, concentrating on sucking Tony's earlobe, loving the way Tony melted in his embrace and made little sounds of delight.

"You…you think you could put a heated towel rack in there? Maybe one of those…oh, God…those jet tubs? How about–"

Gibbs pulled back until his mouth was hovering only an inch over Tony's. "Tony!"

"What?" Tony was blinking at him, dazed.

Gibbs growled, "Shut up, DiNozzo, and kiss me."

*** end chapter 55 ***


	56. Everything

Right from the start Gibbs knew that he needed to approach Tony with a gentle hand. Not that Tony was going to break or anything – he had certainly proved that he was resilient – but Gibbs didn't want to see him go through one more moment of pain. Gibbs planned to do everything in his power to help Tony through what was likely to be a difficult time of recovery and transition. If that meant he had to take things slow, then that's what he was going to do, even if it meant putting a lid on his ever-growing need to fuck Tony until neither of them could remember any of the bad shit that had gone down. Gibbs held back, knowing that what Tony really needed was someone understanding, steady and loving, and even if it killed him, he was damned well going to be all of those things for Tony's sake.

**–**

They had just settled in bed when Tony mumbled something that might have been an apology, and dashed into the bathroom. A second later there came the sound of running water as Tony brushed his teeth – again. Gibbs rolled onto his back with a deep sigh. It didn't take a shrink to figure out that Tony was trying to cleanse his mouth of whatever remained of Harding, even though all physical traces of the bastard were long gone.

There was no way now that he could consider having sex with Tony, even if Tony was interested. Gibbs' brain might be telling him to say 'no,' but unfortunately, despite his best intentions, his body was not only saying 'yes' but his dick was raring to go. Groaning, he rubbed the front of his boxers and ordered his hard-on to cease and desist. As usual, it didn't seem to be listening.

As soon as Tony came back, he'd insist they get some shut-eye. It had been one hell of a weekend and getting a decent night's sleep wouldn't be amiss for either of them. He'd tell Tony that he was tired, that the pain meds had made him sleepy – which wasn't far from the truth.

A short while later Tony emerged from the bathroom with mint on his breath and a resolute expression on his face. He halted on the far side of the bed and after a moment's hesitation stripped off his shirt, exposing a shocking array of bruises, bite marks, and band-aid-covered burns across his chest. Tony stuck his chin out in a defensive gesture and asked, "You still want me, Jethro?"

Gibbs drew back the bedcovers and wordlessly invited Tony to join him. Damned right he wanted him.

**–**

Getting something that's troubling you off your chest might be the best course of action for most people but that doesn't work for Gibbs. Sometimes he had opened up to his wife when things got rough, but even then he'd rarely told her the entire story. He knew from experience just how hard it was to look someone you loved right in the eye and share your innermost feelings with them, especially if your thoughts were sort of dark and messed up. Gibbs understood if Tony didn't want to talk about what he'd gone through, and as far as he was concerned, your business is nobody else's damned business.

Even so, remaining silent about what was going on in your mind – and Gibbs knew that Tony was busy working through some really difficult things right now – didn't mean they magically went away. Tony had been through all sorts of shit between his father and Harding, and Gibbs had killed a man with his bare hands, and they'd both been injured – not exactly the kind of things you process and get over in 48 hours.

The last thing Gibbs wanted to do was to take advantage of Tony's vulnerable state. It was obvious from the way that Tony was sidling up to him in bed that he was interested more than going to sleep, but right now Tony wasn't the best judge of what he needed. Gibbs had sworn he'd take care of Tony, and that's what he aimed to do, even if what he was about to tell him wasn't likely to be popular.

**–**

"It's been a tough couple of days," Gibbs said. Careful of his injured arm and leg, he shifted onto his left side so he could see Tony's face, illuminated by the glow of the small bedside lamp. "We should get some sleep," he said decisively.

Tony propped himself up on his elbow and asked incredulously, "You want to _sleep_? _Now_?"

Gibbs thought he might be up to doing something more than sleeping; maybe a bit of exploring with his hands and mouth would be nice. Instead, he stuck to his guns. "Yeah, sleep, DiNozzo."

Tony stared at him. "Well, fuck, I've got better things in mind than _sleeping_." He made 'sleeping' sound like it was a dirty word. A second later there was a hand on Gibbs' shoulder, followed by a fervent kiss, and the way Tony shoved his tongue down Gibbs' throat left no doubt as to what he had in mind. Tony burrowed his hands beneath Gibbs's undershirt, his long fingers digging into the muscles in Gibbs' back, hard and demanding.

Gibbs struggled with himself for a moment, then gave in and kissed Tony back hungrily.

When they finally broke apart Tony gave a short laugh of pleasure and declared, "God, I love everything about you, Jethro, your eyes, your shoulders, your dick, even your knobby knees. But your back? So fucking strong, really turns me on." He ran his hands up and down Gibbs' back, plying the muscles. "You're one beautiful man," he murmured in Gibbs' ear before he sucked on his neck, humming a little.

Gibbs's face grew hot. He didn't know how to reply, or if he should say anything at all. Nobody'd ever called him beautiful before, and he wasn't sure if he should like it quite as much as he did. In the end he said nothing, just titled his head to one side to give Tony better access to the underside of his jaw, which Tony was busy licking. God, that tongue…those little noises he was making. Gibbs gripped Tony's pajama-clad hip with one sweaty hand to anchor him in place, making sure that his hold was light enough so Tony could move away should he want to.

It soon became apparent that Tony had no intention of going anywhere. He wrapped his arms around Gibbs and clung to him as if he was afraid he was going to get away. They kissed some more, and Tony moaned into Gibbs' mouth when he took control and pushed Tony flat on his back. Gibbs sucked on Tony's tongue, making some appreciative noises of his own, and when they came up for air, flushed and panting, Tony had a smirk on his face. "You don't seem very sleepy to me," he said, playfully tugging on the waistband of Gibbs' underwear.

"Tony," Gibbs cautioned, brushing the younger man's hand aside. He reminded himself to stick to his guns and placed a palm against Tony's chest, but Tony wouldn't allow Gibbs to push him away.

"I want this. Want to make love."

"Tony," Gibbs said, his voice deepening in what he had a feeling was a pointless warning. He stroked Tony's messy hair, running his fingers through the soft strands, careful not to go near the area above his ear, where the hair had been cropped close and the stitches stuck out. Every time he looked at Tony's injuries, Gibbs ached with the need to protect him, even though he knew that he couldn't be there for Tony all the time. Tony wouldn't appreciate being babied, anyhow.

"I need this. Don't take this away from me, Jethro," Tony implored. "I want you to fuck me," he said, sounding almost harsh, his eyes bright.

"Oh, Tony, never like that."

"Why not?" Now Tony seemed almost angry.

Gibbs closed his eyes, torn between an intense need to take Tony, to be inside his body, to fuck him just like Tony wanted, and the feeling he should hold back. He ground out, "I don't want to…" But he _did_ want to, he did. He wanted to take possession of Tony's body, to mark him as his property, to emblazon his damned stamp on him for everyone to see, so there would never be any doubt that Tony DiNozzo belonged to Jethro Gibbs.

Gibbs released Tony and rolled onto his back, telling himself he had to make Tony find somewhere else to sleep, preferably upstairs and out of reach. The further away the better, and soon, before they went any further.

"Jethro, listen to me." Tony leaned on Gibbs's chest and kissed him briefly in a call for attention. "You listening to me?"

No, he shook his head. He wasn't listening because he knew full well that he'd never have the strength to push Tony away should he insist on staying. Gibbs suddenly curled into Tony and buried his face in the side of his neck, squeezing his eyes shut, battling with his emotions, with all the twisted shit that was going on in his brain. "I can't," he whispered. Can't fuck you, can't take you, can't make you mine. This was crazy, denying what they meant together when he was holding Tony, halfway there already with his dick so hard it was aching, for Chrissake, and all because some fucked-up sadistic bastard made it all seem so sick, so wrong? He loved Tony, _loved_ him like nobody else. So why couldn't he get it out of his mind that if they had sex Tony would hate him? That Tony would think that Gibbs was no better than any of the other men – older men – who had abused him over the years? It was stupid but he couldn't get away from it. "Shit," he said, keeping his face buried.

"I love you, Jethro," Tony whispered in his ear. "You're everything to me. You hear me?"

How could he help but hear him? Gibbs nodded, his jaw rubbing against Tony's cheek, rough against smooth, and before he knew what he was doing, his hand moved across Tony's warm skin until it came to rest on the small of his back. Without planning to, Gibbs slipped his hand under the waistband of Tony's pajamas to fondle his firm ass, his fingers sliding into the welcoming heat between Tony's cheeks, stroking him, touching him just there, oh God, _there_.

Tony quivered in response to the intimate touch and pushed his hips against Gibbs', murmuring soft words of encouragement and kissing Gibbs' cheek.

It was all too much, knowing that he'd come so close to losing Tony, seeing him frightened and hurt but still putting on a brave face, and now having him in the same fucking bed, half-naked and willing to be more, to be everything to him, and Gibbs felt this want inside of him, so intense, so fucking close to breaking him down that it scared him. It hurt, but Gibbs let himself go, drowning in the smell of sweat and toothpaste, at the hint of coffee behind Tony's ear, at the very essence of _Tony_. He shouldn't, _shouldn't_ , for Tony's sake. Somehow he surfaced enough to realize what he was doing, and he forced himself to withdraw his hand, although he couldn't quite bear to move away.

"Jethro, look at me," pled Tony.

Gibbs opened his eyes and tipped his head back to find that Tony was smiling at him with so much love and understanding that it made his heart skip a beat. "You should go," said Gibbs in a tired voice, although he did nothing to loosen his hold on Tony's hip. "Ducky made up a room for you upstairs."

"If you do this, Jethro," Tony said, his voice a harsh whisper. "If you let what happened prevent us from making love, then you're letting him win."

He shook his head. "This isn't right."

Tony frowned at him. "What isn't right?"

Gibbs didn't want Tony to think he doubted their love, doubted _him_. "Not the right time, after everything you've been through. We need to step back, give it a couple of days."

Tony looked into Gibbs' eyes, weighing his words, and then he said firmly, "What isn't right is that you're allowing what happened to control what we do. _We_ are in control here. Us, Jethro. You and me. I haven't changed; I don't think any differently about you, and nothing will stop me from making love with you. I'm not scared of this. I need you to accept that I'm okay and you are…well, you've been hurt, too, but at least the important parts are functioning." Tony nodded at Gibbs' erection, trapped between their two bodies, and smiled smugly. "Looks like your body is smarter than your brain, Jethro. It knows what's good for us. I'm not leaving this bed, Jethro, so we might as well take our clothes off," he said, pulling at Gibbs' undershirt.

Gibbs looked into Tony's eyes for a long moment and then he snorted with a reluctant laugh. Tony was right, his cock certainly was making its needs known. Trapped inside his boxers, it was jutting insistently against Tony's hip, and through their clothing he could feel Tony's hard shaft pressing against his thigh. "You don't always get your own way, you know," he warned gruffly, knowing that he was already lost.

"Yes, I do, Jethro," Tony said with a superior smile. "Think of it like the first time you take it up the ass; there's a bit of resistance but you relax, and in the end…mmm…the pleasure more than makes up for the pain."

"So, you're saying if I want to avoid pain I have to give in to you? Let you stay?"

"Definitely." Tony angled his head and slowly licked Gibbs' slightly parted lips before kissing him deeply.

When their lips parted, Gibbs mumbled, "Except I've never…uh…"

Tony raised an eyebrow.

Embarrassed and already regretting speaking aloud, Gibbs shrugged. "Never took it up the ass."

Tony's eyes widened for a second and then he nodded. "Of course not, you're Gibbs." He nipped Gibbs' chin and teased, "Go ahead, give in…it only hurts for a minute."

As Tony had predicted, Gibbs gave in with a muttered, "Oh, hell, you can stay," which made Tony laugh. Gibbs hugged him tight and asked, "This is okay? You're sure?"

Tony nuzzled Gibbs' neck and shifted his hips back and forth, rubbing their groins together. "Mmm. Very okay. Gonna get a lot better once we get naked."

"Careful," Gibbs reminded Tony when his hand touched his bandaged forearm. He made sure that his right leg was resting on top of Tony's, glad that the wound in his thigh hadn't been giving him trouble since he'd been lying down.

"I'll be gentle with you," Tony said with a leering smile. He touched Gibbs, lightly at first, and then with ever-increasing boldness, his long strokes sweeping and powerful. He ran his hands everywhere, following them with his mouth, touching and kissing, sucking and fondling Gibbs' chest, his belly, even his inner thighs, his fingers passing by Gibbs' genitals, never quite touching them.

Gibbs accepted everything that Tony offered him, making appreciative sounds to ensure that Tony knew that his caresses pleased him, saying, "That's good, there, that's so hot…" In return, Gibbs ran his palm back and forth across his lover's smooth chest, avoiding the small wounds there, and felt Tony's heartbeat quicken beneath his hand. He rubbed his thumb in small circles around one of Tony's dark pink nipples, then dipped his head to suck on it, humming with pleasure at the way it peaked and hardened into a small bud between his lips. Gibbs worried the nipple a little with bared teeth, making Tony close his eyes with a sharp intake of breath.

Gibbs kissed and swiped his tongue along the strong muscles of Tony's neck, mouthing the soft skin under his jaw. "Tastes so good," Gibbs murmured. He traced along the curved line of Tony's collarbone with his fingertips and gently clasped the back of his neck when he kissed Tony thoroughly. Their tongues met in gentle exploration, both men making little grunts of pleasure as they savored each other's taste, losing themselves in the kiss. When they finally separated, they were breathing hard and smiling, eyes half closed in bliss.

Tony's hand came up to tenderly caress Gibbs' jaw, and Gibbs responded with a whispered, "Love…you…so…much," between kisses to Tony's cheeks, his nose, his eyelids. Tony relaxed in his arms with a sigh, his eyes heavy-lidded with arousal and the desire for more. Being the recipient of Tony's trust was a wonderful gift, and it made Gibbs feel warm from his heart right down to his toes.

Tony's hips began to rock against his, small motions that encouraged Gibbs to thrust right back, but fuck, _fuck_ , there were layers of clothing between them – he still wore his boxers and Tony's hard cock was straining against his pajamas, leaving a damp spot in the soft flannel. Gibbs couldn't take the initiative; it had to be Tony's move. His breath hitched when Tony's hand skimmed across his belly to his groin, so damned close, and then Tony's hand was inside Gibbs' boxers, taking hold of his shaft. There was nothing tentative about his grip, the way his hand was sliding and squeezing. Gibbs choked back a cry and then said, "Oh God, oh God, Tony…"

Tony released Gibbs only long enough to kick off his pants, and impatiently tugged Gibbs' boxers down when he had difficulty getting them off. Despite their eagerness, they slowed down so Gibbs could remove his undershirt, taking care not to jostle his arm. The shirt wasn't even over Gibbs' head before Tony was busy sucking hard on his nipples, hands clutching at Gibbs' ribs.

Gibbs tossed his shirt to the side and grabbed a fistful of Tony's hair while Tony blindly grasped for Gibbs' cock. There was a small sound in the back of Tony's throat, somewhere between needy and triumphant when it grew and hardened in his fist, as if to say, 'I did this. I made Jethro hard.' Tony stroked and pumped up and down its length, twisting it and thumbing the leaking cockhead, breathing hard against Gibbs' shoulder and driving Gibbs crazy with arousal.

Suddenly Gibbs was on his back and Tony's hand was gone, leaving his rigid, leaking cock standing at attention, twitching and wanting more. Tony nudged Gibbs' legs further apart to keep his injured thigh out of the way, and straddled his good leg. A tube of lubricant appeared from under a pillow and Tony promised, "I'll take care of you," before leaning forward to capture Gibbs' mouth in a heated kiss. Then there was slickness and their cocks were lined up, heat covered in velvety skin, and Tony said, "Let me do this for you."

That was fine with Gibbs, because his brain didn't seem to be functioning on a very high level, and there wasn't much he could do other than lay there and enjoy the feel of Tony's hands working him towards orgasm. "Uh," Gibbs managed to grunt, urging Tony on, not caring that he sounded half drunk. He covered Tony's hands with his own and followed their pumping motion, four hands on two dicks – the perfect combination. Then Gibbs had to move, and his hips joined Tony in a rhythm that felt so good, his dick rigid and throbbing and sliding against Tony's, slick and hot, wanting more. He doubted he'd last much longer and neither would Tony from the sound of his moans and the way he, too, was shoving hard into their hands.

Gibbs jerked his hips and a sharp pain tore through his thigh. He stiffened and held back a groan, faltering, trying to regain his rhythm, but Tony knew right away that something was wrong. Tony hesitated and stopped, and he slipped off Gibbs to lie by his side, his hand on his shoulder, offering silent sympathy while Gibbs swore under his breath and rode out the pain.

When Gibbs opened his eyes, which he hadn't realized he'd scrunched shut, he found Tony surveying him with worried eyes. With an apologetic smile, Gibbs said, "My fault. Guess I forgot." Tony rubbed his hand up and down Gibbs' upper arm, still concerned, so Gibbs added, "You do that to me."

"Hurt you?"

"No," Gibbs protested. "You make me forget. That's good." In the low light of the bedside lamp, the shadows on Tony's face accentuated the masculine planes of his nose and cheeks and jaw, the dark smudges cast by his long eyelashes, and it struck Gibbs that sometime in the past couple of days, Tony had left the last vestiges of his childhood behind. Maybe that was a good thing. He reached out and ran a hand soothingly down Tony's cheek. "Make me forget again."

Tony didn't move right away so Gibbs shifted onto his side, careful with his leg, and inched closer to Tony so he could wrap his hand around their slippery cocks, aligning them once again. He let his hand do most of the work, thrusting slowly, just enough to enhance the friction, and then Tony's hand was covering his, working with him.

Tony threw his head back on the pillow and moaned, his body arching into Gibbs' touch, the column of his neck exposed, inviting Gibbs' open-mouthed kisses. Tony's harsh panting kept time with the rhythm of Gibbs' hand as it slid up and down their cocks. Gibbs stroked faster, fisted harder, Tony's hand on top of his, their intertwined fingers slick with lube and their intermingled pre-come. Tony matched his pace, gripping and twisting, his thumb rubbing over the crowns, his fingers pumping alongside Gibbs'. Tony's eyes were open and unfocused, his lips moving slightly in some silent plea. Both men thrust into their two-handed fist, in short, fierce strokes, and then they tensed and came in tandem, Gibbs with a shuddering grunt and Tony with a high-pitched shout as they spurted over their hands and bellies.

**–**

Gibbs awoke during the night to find himself draped across Tony's naked body, and even the pain in his thigh, which was killing him, and his forearm, which was throbbing in time to his heartbeat, couldn't prevent him from smiling. A hand stroked his hair, and he felt Tony's belly shaking underneath his cheek. Gibbs raised his head to look up, half-afraid he'd find Tony crying, something he didn't think he could handle. Instead, there was a self-satisfied smile on the young man's face.

Tony brushed Gibbs hair back from his forehead and laughed softly.

"What?" asked Gibbs.

"Nothing. Just happy."

"That's how it should be." Gibbs kissed Tony's stomach and moved on to his hipbone and then his soft penis. It was then his turn to laugh.

"What?" asked Tony, sounding a little annoyed.

Gibbs sighed with satisfaction and said smugly, "Just thinking that the walls in this house had better be as thick as Ducky says they are, or else we'll have some explaining to do in the morning." He crawled up Tony's body so they could kiss properly, and after a while Gibbs collapsed on his back.

Tony rolled towards him and slung his arm across Gibbs' belly. "He already knows," he mumbled, half asleep. "Who'd ya think helped me make up this bed for the two of us?"

**–** end chapter 56 **–**


	57. Safe House

Even before Gibbs opened his eyes he was certain that this was not going to be a good day. His entire body ached, throbbed, or flared with pain, depending on which part he concentrated upon. He was hot, sweaty, thirsty, and really needed a big cup of black coffee, the kind that was black as tar and bitter as hell. As if in answer to his unspoken desire, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafted into the bedroom. With a groan, he cracked open one eye.

Tony stood by the bed, beaming. He held out a steaming cup of coffee. "Morning, Jethro."

"M'rning." Gritting his teeth, Gibbs slowly levered himself upright and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He rubbed his stiff thigh muscles and accepted the hot mug that Tony offered him. "Uh," he said by way of thanks. By the time he'd guzzled down half of the hot brew Gibbs was starting to return to the land of the living and was able to focus on Tony's still-smiling face. "Wha's the time?"

"Early."

God, he looked so young, his smooth cheeks and his hair sticking out at all angles. Tony was wearing jeans, and a dark gray turtleneck whose purpose may have been to cover up his injuries, but even so he looked damned fine in it. "You're dressed," Gibbs said stupidly.

"And you're not," Tony replied with a bright smile.

It slowly dawned on Gibbs that he was, indeed, naked, and he had a vague recollection of Tony cleaning them both off with a warm washcloth before settling by his side and falling asleep with a satisfied sigh. They'd had some pretty great sex last night, once all the emotional shit had been dealt with. No wonder Tony was standing there, grinning at him. Gibbs scratched his jaw and asked in a rough morning voice, "Proud of yourself, are ya?"

"Very proud of myself." Tony leaned over and kissed Gibbs, working in a bit of tongue. He pulled away and held up a little plastic cup containing some pills. "Ducky says you need to take these before you do anything strenuous this morning."

"What, he thinks I'm gonna jog around the block or something?"

"I think he was suggesting that you should refrain from doing something more…horizontal." Tony wiggled his eyebrows to make his point clear.

Gibbs covered his eyes and groaned, "Oh God…" Ducky was going to give him hell for sleeping with Tony; he just knew it.

Tony rubbed Gibbs' back and laughed a little. "You all right, Jethro? I think he's figured it out by now."

No, he wasn't all right, not by a long shot. "That doesn't mean Ducky's okay with us doing it under his roof."

Tony reasoned, "Ducky was the one who suggested that he and I make up this big bed yesterday."

Gibbs lowered his hand and squinted up at Tony. "You really think he's okay with this?" he asked without much hope. "You tell him about us?"

"I didn't exactly tell him how we spent our weekend, Jethro, having hot sex all over your house, just said we were together now."

"And the truck. Don't forget the truck," Gibbs said helpfully, picturing his dick sinking deep into Tony's tight ass and pounding him so hard the pickup rocked wildly.

Tony laughed. "Hard to forget the truck. Look, I could have slept upstairs if I'd wanted to, but Ducky told me that you needed someone to take care of you."

"I don't need anybody," Gibbs said grouchily, rubbing his lower back. He really needed a hot shower to get the kinks out. Making love to Tony, even if it had been limited to some hand action, had taken a lot out of him after being laid up in the hospital. Gibbs looked at the unmade bed and thought how inviting it was. He wondered if he could lie down and pull the covers over his head, sleep away the day. It shouldn't be difficult to convince Tony to join him.

Tony's hand was on his shoulder. "You going back to bed? Maybe you haven't recovered from losing all that blood."

Taking a deep breath, telling himself to stop being such a wuss, Gibbs shook his head. "No. I need the head. A shower. Food." He looked up at Tony's anxious face and relented. "And you. I need you." Tony was the best medicine of all.

"Mmm. Need you, too," Tony said. Before Gibbs could tell Tony how much he needed him, Tony was sitting by his side on the bed, slipping his arms around his shoulders. Immediately they became involved in a slow, lingering kiss. When Tony released him, Gibbs attempted to pull his lover back for another kiss but was brought up short by a hand on his chest.

Tony held the little cup containing his pills in front of Gibbs' nose and shook it. "You need to take these, Jethro, before you get the head, the shower or anything else."

Gibbs sighed but he took the pills with the last of his coffee, then rose to his feet. Tony's arm snaked around his waist as soon as he was standing and Gibbs said grouchily, "I can walk on my own, ya know."

Tony smiled tolerantly. "I know you can. I just like to hold you. Especially when you're naked."

How could he argue with that? He liked the feel of Tony's arm around him and the way Tony's fingers were stroking his bare skin. "Getting soft," Gibbs muttered, wondering what had happened to the Marine who could hump ten miles with a fifty-pound pack and barely break a sweat.

"You seem pretty hard to me," Tony said.

Tony was peering at a point somewhere below his waist, and Gibbs realized he was getting a boner. "Aw hell."

Tony faced Gibbs and wrapped his arms around him, smiling with intent. "You want me to take care of that for you, Gunny?" He bumped their groins together and Gibbs' erection immediately hardened and poked against Tony's jeans-clad thigh in retaliation.

Gibbs hooked his leg behind Tony's and used his weight to topple them onto the mattress. They fell with Gibbs on top, laughing and saying, "Ow," when a sharp pain shot through his leg. It was easy to tune out though, because Tony had his hand on his cock, stroking it while making a remark about Gibbs' quick recovery, and all he could think of was this felt so good that sex superseded all other needs. Gibbs was biting playfully at the soft skin under Tony's jaw, and trying to get his hand inside Tony's pants, when there was a knock at the door.

"Come in," called Tony, barely giving Gibbs time to roll off him.

Gibbs muttered, "Fuck," and grabbed a handful of blanket to cover his lap.

Ducky entered, smiling pleasantly and acting as if Gibbs wasn't sitting there with the bedding bunched over his groin. "Ah, you're up. Jethro. Did you sleep well?"

Tony reclined at his side with his hands behind his head, smirking and displaying the unmistakable bulge in his tight jeans. "Hi, Dr. Mallard. I slept just fine."

"Yes, I already know how you have slept, Anthony," said Ducky.

Gibbs looked at Tony so Tony explained, "Ducky took care of my burns this morning after my shower."

"Yes, well, perhaps you will now excuse us so I may assist Jethro," Ducky said. "If I'm not mistaken, he is about to use the bathroom, and this would be an opportune time for me to tend to his wounds."

"But I was going to help Jethro," Tony objected, sitting up.

"Instead, you could help Gerald prepare the breakfast," said Ducky patiently. "I believe he's making pancakes, and the last time he flipped them they ended up adhered to the Venetian blinds."

"Jethro needs my help shaving," said Tony stubbornly.

Gibbs looked from Ducky to Tony and knew he had to step in before things became heated. "I can manage," he assured Tony. Tony turned his head and glared at Gibbs as if he'd taken sides with the enemy. Gibbs sighed and elbowed him lightly in the ribs. "Go on." Before Tony could object again, he leaned over and whispered in Tony's ear, "We'll have plenty of time later, as soon as Ducky's gone to work."

"Yes, that would be for the best," Ducky agreed in a brisk tone. "Jethro, we shall start by removing the old dressings so you can shower."

Tony sighed, knowing when he was being dismissed. "Oh, okay. I'll save you a big stack pancakes." Ignoring Ducky's presence, Tony gave Gibbs a quick kiss on the cheek and then headed for the kitchen.

***–***

It was sort of funny the way Ducky kept his eyes pinned on Gibbs' face, valiantly pretending that Gibbs wasn't still semi-erect after being aroused by Tony. Gibbs insisted that he could shower and shave himself, and once he had proven to Ducky that his leg was strong enough to support himself, Ducky left him to his own devices. Soon after Gibbs came out of the bathroom, dressed in boxers and an undershirt, and feeling a whole hell of a lot better for having had a steaming hot shower and a quick hand-job, Ducky appeared carrying his medical bag.

The ME pulled up a chair and sat facing Gibbs, who was on the bed. Ducky took a close look at both Gibbs' arm and leg wounds, and then made Gibbs lift his undershirt so he could inspect the bruises on his torso. "He certainly gave you a good working over," said Ducky, tutting at the bruises on Gibbs' ribs.

"Yeah? At least I'm still alive to talk about it," Gibbs said dryly, to which Ducky agreed with a nod. When Ducky inspected a large bruise on his upper chest, Gibbs said, "Got that one from being shot when we were under fire at the boathouse. Thank God for Kevlar."

"Indeed. A nasty business, the whole thing. You and Anthony, and all of the agents, were most fortunate to have come away without having debilitating injuries. As you may be aware, Kevlar was invented by Stephanie Kwolek, who was born in Pennsylvania, when she worked at the DuPont lab." He asked Gibbs to raise his arm and prodded a bit around the bruise, but didn't seem overly concerned. "Any shortness of breath or chest pain?"

"Only when you poke at it, Duck," Gibbs said as he pulled his undershirt down.

"Ah, yes, of course. Then I shall refrain from doing just that. Both of these stab wounds are healing quite nicely, Jethro. Let me take care of your arm first." Ducky was busy for a few minutes applying ointment, and then bandaging the sutured laceration on Gibbs' forearm. As he finished with the arm and moved on to Gibbs' leg, he mused, "Perhaps because damaged tissue heals relatively quickly, one tends to forget that the injury to a victim's psyche can take much longer to restore to health. I do believe that Anthony's burns will fade with time, and the emergency room doctor did such fine work on your lacerations that the scars will hardly be noticeable."

It took Gibbs a moment to catch on to what Ducky was getting at. "Don't call him a victim," he growled. "He's not a damned victim."

Ducky didn't take offense at Gibbs' tone. He met Gibbs' eyes and said mildly, "You may call Anthony a survivor if you wish. Just the same, he has undergone a traumatic experience and is likely to feel anger and guilt, and many other strong emotions, as would anyone so abused, while he goes through the healing process." He applied a large gauze pad to Gibbs' thigh and started to wrap a bandage around it to keep it in place. "This isn't too tight, is it?"

"He wasn't raped, Ducky," Gibbs said angrily. He would have stood up and paced, or maybe even would have walked out, if Ducky hadn't had been slowly bandaging his thigh.

Ducky stopped what he was doing and sat up straight. "Of course he was raped, Jethro. Not penetrated, but there was non-consensual intercourse. And besides that, Anthony was drugged and thus he doesn't really know the extent to which his body was abused while he was rendered helpless. He can see the evidence of the crime, the burns and small cuts, but he has no recollection of how they got there. It must be very disconcerting."

"He said he didn't remember most of what happened, Duck, but I thought that was a good thing. He shouldn't have that crap in his brain for the rest of his life." Gibbs swallowed and said in a low voice, "I wish he didn't remember _any_ of it."

"Well, Anthony does remember some of what went on and it can't be ignored because it will affect him for some time to come. Anthony told the agents who took his statement that he recalled being made to perform fellatio on Senator Harding. He was quite candid about the details. Anthony was quite upset that he couldn't remember most of what occurred until, he said, he awoke to find the senator was holding him upright and you were pointing your weapon at the man's face. He also remembers hearing Petty Officer Kovac's cries as he was tortured, but Anthony was unable to move, which concerns him greatly. He said that everything after that was foggy and he isn't sure what was real. I did explain about the effects of the Rohypnol cocktail that was forced upon him, pointing out that he was not responsible." Ducky sounded exasperated when he asked, "Haven't you read Anthony's statement, Jethro?"

Gibbs said, in his own defense, "No, I haven't read it yet. Been a little occupied, Ducky."

"Well, it is in the packet that the FBI left here, along with the tape that you listened to. I suggest you read it before you talk to Anthony." The ME finished taping Gibbs' bandage securely to his leg and said, "I do hope I did not cause you any pain, my friend. You would tell me if I hurt you, wouldn't you?"

The way Ducky spoke, his voice soft and solicitous, told Gibbs that the older man was trying to apologize. He laid his hand on top of Ducky's. "You're a good friend, Ducky."

"As you are to Anthony," Ducky pointed out.

Gibbs sighed and said, "I don't want him hurt any more, you understand?" He just wanted to move beyond all of the ugliness, to enjoy life with Tony. Was that so much to ask?

"Avoiding the issue won't do either of you any good, although I know all about your stiff upper lip way of handling your demons." Ducky rose and put away his medical supplies. He snapped his bag closed and turned to Gibbs. "When that dreadful FBI agent, Dickson, insinuated that Anthony gave the senator a blowjob because he enjoyed sucking on men's dicks – and I'm quoting him – Anthony gave Agent Dickso a sweet smile and said, 'I'll just bet you think that _fellatio_ is the name of a Shakespearean character.' I was hard put not to laugh aloud, I have to tell you. I'm afraid I may have inadvertently allowed a chuckle or two to escape." He laid his hand on Gibbs' shoulder and said, "You are Anthony's best friend, Jethro, and so much more than that. I am certain that being close to you, enjoying the physical aspects of a loving relationship, will make all the difference in his recovery." Ducky paused and then said, "Just be careful, my boy, that he doesn't come to rely upon you too much. He has to stand on his own feet at some point."

Ducky left and Gibbs sat there for a while, thinking about their conversation and about the future. He wondered how it was that only a few days before, he'd never slept with a man, never thought that it was even a remote possibility. And yet here he was, knowing in the depths of his heart that he'd never love anyone as much as he loved Tony, and finding great joy in the fact that Tony loved him the same way. But hand in hand with that wonderful feeling came a terrible pain because he hadn't been able to prevent Tony from being hurt, from being so damaged that he'd carry the scars with him for the rest of his life.

And then Gibbs realized that he wasn't giving Tony much credit. The young man had shown he'd overcome some terrible times and situations in his life. Ducky was right; Tony wasn't a victim but a survivor, and even more so, he was resilient. He'd stick by Tony's side and would help him through whatever it was he had to face.

"Hey," came Tony's voice from the open door.

Gibbs looked up with a smile, and rose to greet Tony, pulling him into his arms and kissing him thoroughly. Tony made a sound of pleasure and melted against Gibbs' chest, his hands sliding up his back, under his shirt. It felt so good to hold Tony like that, without any reservations, knowing that they had a future together, that they'd be able to handle whatever life through their way – because they'd do it together.

When they pulled apart, Tony looked into Gibbs' eyes and asked, "I was going to ask if you were coming to breakfast but I don't think food is on your mind."

"I was thinking of bed," Gibbs said with a nod in the direction of the still-unmade bed.

"Pancakes first. Lots of warm maple syrup."

"Warm syrup?

"Mmmm." Tony kissed him again.

"Breakfast it is, but you'd better save some of that syrup…for later."

"Oh my, someone wants to play with food in bed," Tony said, his face alight.

"Want to drip it all over your body and then lick it off you. Real slow."

Tony's eyes widened. "Let's go then, time's a-wasting." He took hold of Gibbs' hand and dragged him towards the kitchen but Gibbs pulled back.

"Hey," Gibbs said, indicating his body with his free hand. "I'm only wearing my skivvies."

Tony looked him up and down and then said, "Oh yeah…clothes. Good idea."

Gibbs quickly dressed and pushed Tony in the direction of the kitchen, but before they got there he pressed Tony against the wall in the hallway and kissed him one more time then murmured against his mouth, "Don't forget to save some syrup…for later."

***–***

As soon as he entered the kitchen, Gibbs glanced at the blinds over the sink to see if they had any pancake stuck to them, but they were clean. Tony noticed where he was looking and they shared a private smile. Breakfast was good, with plenty of coffee and pancakes covered in warm maple syrup, as promised.

Ducky entertained them with a story about a fellow in Vermont who was collecting sap from his maple trees and somehow became glued to the tree. "He was still attempting to extricate himself when a black bear came alone and…" He glanced up at the clock and said, "Oh my, is that the time? I must run. I have some gentlemen awaiting me in the morgue and you know I can't keep them waiting. I expect you will return to your own home today, Jethro? You are, of course, welcome to stay here as long as you like, but Mother is due back late this afternoon, along with her Corgis."

"Uh, thanks, Ducky, but I'm heading home soon." He didn't have to say that Tony would be accompanying him.

"If you have any concerns at all, give me a ring," Ducky offered. "I'll be off now."

Gibbs thanked him for letting them stay over. Ducky, of course, made light of his part in taking care of Jethro and Tony, but Gibbs could tell he was pleased.

***–***

Gibbs had to phone Director Morrow, and Mike Franks, and he planned to go into work that afternoon, no matter what anyone said. His car was still in the Navy Yard parking lot, and had been since Sunday morning when he'd answered the summons from Mike Franks to get his ass – and the kid's ass, too – in to NCIS immediately. Damn, it seemed a lifetime ago.

He wanted to see, first hand, what progress had been made by the forensics team in matching missing military men to the evidence they'd collected at Harding's estate. He glanced at Tony, who was talking with Gerald about a reggae band that Gerald's cousin was in as they stacked the dishwasher.

"C'mon up and I'll find you some tapes to listen to," offered Gerald.

Tony glanced at Gibbs. "I'm not sure how much time I'll have to listen to them…"

"Take them with you, man. Give them to Agent Gibbs when you're done and he can give 'em to Dr. Mallard. C'mon up and you can choose whatever you want to take." Gerald wiped down the counter and left the kitchen.

Gibbs looked up from the morning newspaper to find that Tony was standing there, apparently unsure if he should follow Gerald. He raised his eyebrows, not fully understanding why Tony didn't simply go with his friend, but it only took a nod from him to send Tony on his way.

Gibbs placed some calls, first to Director Morrow, who brought him up to speed with the case, saying that they'd matched up almost all of the missing victims, and the report should be done later that day. Morrow also said that he'd pressured Internal Affairs to hand in their report, which they'd done, and Gibbs had been cleared to return to duty. "When you've passed your medical, that is," the director said.

Gibbs knew that wasn't going to happen for days yet, but that meant he could rest up at home with Tony for company, a thought that pleased him a lot. Even though Gibbs hadn't had any doubts that he would be cleared, he was relieved his review had been processed swiftly. He remembered that he hadn't read and signed his statement yet, which brought him to thinking about Tony's statement, and Ducky's admonishment that he needed to read it. The paperwork was in the living room with the tape that the FBI agent had dropped off; Gibbs decided it could wait until after he'd had another cup of coffee.

Seated at the kitchen table, coffee in hand, Gibbs tried Mike Franks. He wasn't answering his cell phone and his son's landline was busy, so Gibbs called Burley to get the latest intel on the elusive Alonzo Torres.

"A local LEO spotted Torres on U Street early this morning but lost him. He was on foot so may not have a vehicle. The FBI is chasing that lead down right now. Agent Shepard and I have been checking up on the whereabouts of his associates, starting with some names that Agent Fornell suggested. Fornell said that even though they've been putting the screws to Azari and the other guys who came with Torres to DC, they haven't extracted anything useful yet."

Wondering if the FBI used real thumbscrews, Gibbs said, "So far you've only told me what you haven't found, Burley. You gonna keep wasting my time or tell me something that might actually be of some use?"

"Uh, sure, Gibbs," Burley said. "You know you're starting to sound a lot like Franks?"

"This is a bad thing?" Gibbs asked.

"No, no. Just an observation."

"Burley, tell me something or put Pacci on the line."

"Pacci went to Franks' place to see if he could spring him. I think he was enjoying himself, planning it like a commando attack."

Gibbs chuckled and waited for Stan to continue.

After a pause, Burley seemed to realize Gibbs was waiting for him to speak. "Oh, okay. We met a lot of dead ends, but we found that a man called Manny Parkes is suspected of being the driver during a robbery of the National Guard armory in Newark two months ago but there wasn't enough evidence to hold him. A couple of FBI agents were killed during the investigation and Alonzo Torres is believed to be behind the robbery and the murders." Stan stopped to take a breath before continuing. "Parkes went off the radar a couple of days ago but there's an unconfirmed sighting of him in Maryland last night. We think he's meeting Torres, maybe supplying him with weapons, most of which were never recovered. There's more–"

Gibbs interrupted, asking, "The FBI aren't watching him?" There was something about the FBI agents who had been killed. He'd read the report about their deaths, and now something about it was bothering him, though he couldn't put his finger on it. He'd have to ask Fornell about it when he saw him.

Jenny came on the phone, saying excitedly, "The Feebs discounted this man as being important, Gibbs, as he's a driver, not muscle, but Stan and I…"

Stan must have taken the phone away from her, which Gibbs thought was a brave move. He could hear Jenny bitching in the background while Burley explained, "We found out that Parkes is related to Torres' wife. Her brother-in-law. And there's more. Jenny read on the inter-agency bulletin that a forger who specializes in passports was found dead in a house fire a couple of nights ago in Staten Island. We had one of our NCIS agents in New York look into it this morning and he confirms that Parkes was seen at a gas station only two blocks away shortly before the forger's place went up in smoke."

There was nothing solid, just a bunch of hunches strung together, but Gibbs had that feeling in his gut that his fellow agents were on the right track. "It sounds like Parkes might be bringing weapons and a passport to Torres," he allowed.

Stan asked, "If Torres is on the run, can't go back to New York, where will he go?"

"He'll go home," Gibbs said abruptly.

"Home?"

In the background Jenny said, loudly enough for Gibbs to hear her, "Home to Colombia, Burley. He'll head south."

"South America," said Gibbs. "Inform airlines, ships, commercial outfits that he'll be using a false name and papers. Spread his picture around. You hear from Franks?" They hadn't, so Gibbs asked, "Have you told any of this to the director yet?"

Burley said they only just put it all together and hadn't had a chance.

"Well get on it." If they didn't keep Morrow in the loop he'd have their heads.

"You coming in to work, Gibbs?" Burley asked, sounding anxious. "I know you just got out of the hospital and all, but…"

Without Franks there, Gibbs would be needed, although it looked like Burley and Shepard had done some pretty good investigating on their own. "I'm working on it. First off, find out where this Parkes is now. Credit cards, connections, you know the drill."

Gibbs wondered if he could leave Tony with Gerald for a while. One thing for sure, he wasn't about to take Tony with him on any cases, ever again. Not even in to the NCIS building, if he could help it. At breakfast Gerald had said he didn't have to leave for class until noon, so he could keep Tony company – right here at Ducky's house, where he'd be safe. Gibbs was torn, wanting to get back to work even though he hadn't been cleared for active duty, and at the same time feeling he should remain close to Tony. Tony won out. "You find anything, call me. I'll be here at Dr. Mallard's for now."

"Gibbs?"

"What?"

Stan cleared his throat and asked, "I checked the inventory of the weapons taken from that warehouse. The robbers were selective; all hand-held missile launchers. What does Torres want with one of those if he's leaving the country?"

Gibbs had an idea but he didn't like what he was thinking.

***–*** end chapter 57 ***–***


	58. The Transcript

He finally got hold of Mike Franks when he picked up his cell phone, and reported everything that the agents had related to him. Franks said he was heading into NCIS. "Can't leave us out of the rodeo, can they, just 'cause we got a bit shot up?"

"Speak for yourself," Gibbs retorted. "I'm not the one who forgot to duck a bullet."

"And I'm not the one who decides to wrassle with a psychopath with a big knife."

Gibbs couldn't quarrel with that. "You on the run, Boss?"

"Yeah, I escaped with Pacci's help. He's driving. My kid was taking his job as guard dog way too seriously. We're almost at the Yard so I'll call you soon as we have something solid to go on," Franks said and then hung up abruptly.

Gibbs put a fresh pot of coffee on to brew and went into the living room to retrieve the envelope with the printed statements from the FBI. He glanced at the tape recorder, and decided to leave the surveillance audiotape in it, in case he wanted to listen to the tape again after he'd read the paperwork. He thought it unlikely, especially as he wasn't likely to forget what he'd heard the first time he'd listened to it.

Back in the kitchen, Gibbs settled down with a cup of strong, black coffee, and started to read the transcript of Tony's statement.

***–***

Gibbs pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, then sighed deeply and shoved both his and Tony's statements into the envelope.

He felt guilty that he'd read the statement Tony had given to the FBI agents. He knew he shouldn't; it was, after all, his job to review all parts of the case. Just the same, it seemed as though he was intruding on something personal, something that he shouldn't be looking at without Tony's consent. He told himself that his personal life shouldn't interfere with his job, even if he knew that keeping the two separate was tough to do.

As Gibbs was already aware, Tony remembered only fragments of the time he'd spent in Senator Harding's company. Tony told the FBI agents that had a clear recollection of the events in the hotel, sending a text message to Senator Harding and pretending it was from his father, sneaking out and waiting for the limo to pick him up out front. As Gibbs read the transcript it was as if he could hear Tony speaking.

DiNozzo Jr.: It's like William Devane as Janeway.

SA Dickson: Who's that?

DiNozzo Jr.: It's from Marathon Man. Janeway says, I don't think he knows anything. And I think he knows too much.

SA Dickson: Is this germane to the case?

DiNozzo Jr.: It's a movie.

SA Fornell: It's always a movie with you, Tony.

SA Schneider: Can we please move on?

After that, Tony explained the agents how the senator had cuffed his hands behind his back, and made him drink some water from a bottle that had been tampered with.

SA Dickson: You say he forced you?

DiNozzo Jr.: He told me if I didn't take a drink he was going to cut off my fingers.

SA Dickson: You believe Senator Harding would have done that?

DiNozzo Jr.: I believe I wanted to keep all my fingers. So I drank some and he ordered me to (unintelligible).

SA Dickson: Repeat that, please.

DiNozzo Jr.: He ordered me to perform fellatio on him. I refused and he burned me with the car's cigarette lighter.

SA Dickson: Where?

DiNozzo Jr.: Where'd I suck? On his dick. It's standard but some guys get off when you suck their toes, though I never really got into that myself.

SA Dickson: Cut the smart-aleck comments, DiNozzo.

DiNozzo Jr.: Look, he burned my chest. To start with. Moved on to my stomach and there's one here on my arm, too. Want to see the burns, Agent Dickson? I have to warn you they're sort of gross and red with blisters and oozing. I got some cuts, too, and some weird marks that…well, I haven't got a clue what caused them. Hey, you're detectives, right? Maybe you can tell me!

SA Schneider: That won't be necessary, Mr. DiNozzo. Please pull your shirt down. We have your medical reports.

DiNozzo Jr.: (unintelligible)

Dr. Donald Mallard: If I may have a moment alone with Anthony, gentlemen?

**–**

SA Dickson: Okay, so you…So Senator Harding ordered you to…perform fellatio?

DiNozzo Jr.: Shit, I'll just bet you thought that fellatiowas the name of a Shakespearean character, Agent Dickson.

SA Dickson: I tell you what I'd lay my money on, Mr. DiNozzo. I'll bet that you gave the senator a blow-job of your own free will, and that your father put you up to it. Tell me this, in the audio recording Senator Harding made a reference to meeting you on a prior occasion. He seemed to know you pretty well. He also said that your father sold you to him? Were you and your father involved in some form of prostitution? Or was this a shakedown of a US Senator? You want to explain any of this?

DiNozzo Jr.: I have never met any Senator Harding before. Besides, the guy's actions speak for themselves. He was as crazy as a loon. He kidnapped, drugged, and tortured a dozen men. Whether or not I gave him head doesn't change the fact that he was a serial murderer who you Feebs never even knew existed until NCIS pointed him out to you.

Fornell intervened and after that Special Agent Schneider took charge and moved the questioning along.

**–**

Tony said that his memory was spotty. He remembered being unable to get up and go to PO Kovacs' aid when he heard him being raped. He remembered suddenly being aware that Special Agent Gibbs was standing only a few feet away with his gun drawn. He told the FBI agents that he felt terribly cold and sick, and there was a boat and…and Gibbs got shot. That was the first time Tony seemed to be at a loss for words because although the FBI agents prompted him several times, Tony didn't reply. There was a note in the transcript that Dr. Mallard asked for a short break.

When they resumed, Agent Dickson asked Tony questions about his father's business, Senior's connection to Alonzo Torres and to Senator Harding. Tony told them what he knew, but it was obvious he had nothing new to add to the FBI dossiers on those three men.

When they were wrapping it up, Tony seemed genuinely concerned that he couldn't provide the FBI agents with more details, and he even apologized. He made a point of saying that Briggs had been involved, choosing victims for his boss and drugging them, delivering them and then disposing of their bodies after Harding had finished with them.

DiNozzo Jr.: He should pay for what he's done. And I want it on record that I'm glad Senator Harding is dead. No, Ducky, it's all right. I need to say this. I might not remember everything that went on but I've got a good enough picture to know that Harding got off easy, and I think Special Agent Gibbs deserves a medal. And you, too, Special Agent Fornell, and all the agents who took part in the raid on Harding's place. If you guys hadn't come when you did, Kovacs and me, we'd be dead or worse, and that fucker would've kept on killing. Anyway, that's what I think. I think I'd like to go now. Can we go, Ducky?

There was nothing in the transcript to suggest that the FBI agents had responded.

**–**

Feeling drained, but damned proud of Tony, Gibbs put his statement aside and sat there for a while. Eventually he picked up the transcript his own interview with the FBI and flipped through it. He was amused to see that the final entry said, in typical agency language, that the interview ended because Special Agent Gibbs was apparently under pressure, and that medical personnel had intervened.

Gibbs snorted and tossed the report aside. Yeah, they were lucky someone intervened before he killed Agent Dickhead, that was for sure.

***–***

Gibbs glanced at his watch, surprised to find how much time had passed. He hadn't seen Tony or Gerald for well over an hour, though the pounding beat of music was coming from somewhere upstairs, despite Ducky maintaining that the walls of the old house were thick and virtually soundproof.

He was just contemplating heading up there to find Tony when Gerald entered the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of Coke from the fridge. "Hey, Agent Gibbs."

"Gerald." Gibbs asked, "Will you send Tony down? I need to talk to him."

Gerald turned and looked at Gibbs, surprised. "Tony? He said he was going to your bedroom to listen to some of the tapes I gave him. That was a while ago."

***–***

Tony wasn't in their bedroom, or in the living room, and just as Gibbs was starting to get worried, he located Tony in the den.

Gibbs almost didn't see him as the back of the couch faced the door, and Tony was scrunched down so far in the soft cushions of the couch that only the top of his head was showing. How someone so tall could make himself so small was a puzzle.

"Tony?" Tony didn't reply and at first Gibbs thought he was ignoring him. As Gibbs approached the couch he saw that Tony had headphones covering his ears; he was listening raptly to something on one of those Walkman things. Must be that reggae band Gerald had been talking about. Gibbs was glad that Tony and Gerald had become friends, and was even more glad that someone had invented headphones so he didn't have to listen to that noise they called music.

Gibbs walked around the couch, trying not to startle the oblivious young man, but as soon as he caught sight of Tony's expression he knew something was wrong.

Tony's eyes were staring and unfocused, and whatever he was listening to must have been extremely disturbing. His mouth was open and his bottom lip was trembling; even his hands were shaking. His knees were drawn up to his chest and, most upsetting of all, were the little whimpers he was making.

"Tony…Tony!" Gibbs was only a couple of feet away, standing right in front of Tony, yet Tony was totally unaware of his presence, he was so involved with whatever he was listening to. Gibbs leaned over and laid a hand on Tony's raised knees to get his attention, totally unprepared for Tony's violent reaction.

Tony jumped to his feet and struck out at Gibbs, his eyes wide and panicky. The punch hit Gibbs in the chest, close enough to the bruise where the bullet had impacted the bulletproof vest to really hurt. Gibbs doubled over, gasping, and had to catch his breath, but he managed to rip the headphones off Tony's head.

Tony jerked back, stumbling over a chair, the Walkman still clutched in his hand. He righted himself but the headphones' connector pulled out of the jack and Senator Harding's voice filled the room.

_"Pity, you'll never know just how sweet Junior tastes because I'm going to take him with me, make him mine. I think I'll keep this one for a while…"_

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Gibbs demanded. "Turn that off!"

He lunged for the Walkman but Tony twisted and kept it away from him, shouting, "No!"

_"Might have to cage him until he's trained though…Mmm. He's matured a little since the last time I had him."_

"Tony, give it to me," Gibbs ordered, knowing the anger in his voice was going to do little to diffuse the situation.

_"I burst his cherry back then. Didn't I, Junior?"_

"I want to hear it," Tony said, his every word deliberate.

_"Yes, Sir."_

"For God's sake, Tony, turn it off," Gibbs pled.

_"See? That wasn't so difficult…"_

"I _need_ to hear it," Tony insisted loudly.

"Tony, give it to me. Now." Gibbs held out his hand, concerned, but Tony backed up until he was against the wall, shaking his head.

_"All he needs is a little indoctrination."_

Tony shouted, his features twisting in rage, "I told Dad I couldn't to do it any more! I told him but he wouldn't listen to me! I didn't want to go after Sir because I knew, I _knew_ what was going to happen. And Dad, he knew what that fucking bastard was going to do to me all along. He _knew_ but he said I had to do it or else Sir was going to kill him and then Sir would get his hands on me anyway!"

_"Anthony never understood how to bring out the best in his son."_

"Tony, turn it off and we can sit down and talk about this." Gibbs could hear his own voice shaking.

"Jesus, I didn't know…I didn't remember he did all that to me. Why didn't you _tell_ me, Jethro?"

_"This one will have some fight in him once the sedative has worn off…He reminds me of Anthony, when he was young."_

Gibbs tried to get through to Tony, saying, "I didn't want you to know, Tony. I didn't want you to get hurt…"

"Didn't want me to get hurt?" Tony shook his head in disbelief. "It's a little bit late for that, don't you think? I don't understand any of this. Why would my own father let him do that to me? He knew what Sir was like! I told him no! Why doesn't _anyone_ fucking _listen_ to me?"

"I'm listening to you, Tony. I am but please, don't do this…" Gibbs moved closer, afraid he was going to make Tony feel cornered, but knowing he had heard more than enough.

Tony moaned in frustration and raised his arms to cover his face and Gibbs saw his chance. He snatched the Walkman out of Tony's hands and threw it forcefully across the room, where it crashed against the wall and broke apart.

Tony gasped and hunched his shoulders as if he were waiting for a blow, his eyes dark and wild.

Not knowing if it was the right thing to do or not, but going on instinct, Gibbs reached out and wrapped his arms around Tony, pulling his stiff body into a hug, saying, "I've got you, Tony." He felt the young man struggle frantically for a brief moment and then Tony gave in and went limp in his arms. Tony's whole body was shaking when Gibbs half-carried him over to the couch. Sitting back, he pulled Tony with him, holding him tightly in a desperate embrace.

Tony made a small sound of protest but he didn't try to move away. After a minute he held onto Gibbs and hid his face in Gibbs' neck, breathing unevenly.

"Shh, I've got you. It'll be all right." Gibbs stroked Tony's hair soothingly, wishing he had his cell phone on him but he had left it somewhere, maybe in the kitchen. At a loss, he needed to call Ducky. They remained like that, entwined in each other's arms, for a good while with Gibbs doing his best to soothe Tony but unsure what to do next.

There was a light tap on the open door. Gibbs turned his head and saw it was Gerald. Even with the thick walls, he must have heard all the shouting.

"I don't want to intrude, Agent Gibbs," Gerald said hesitantly, in a hushed voice. He walked around the couch and put two mugs on the coffee table. "Hot tea," he explained. "Dr. Mallard swears by it, says it cures all ills."

Gibbs nodded his thanks and was about to ask Gerald if he could locate his cell phone when the young man pulled Gibbs' phone out of his pocket and handed it over. "It was in the kitchen," said Gerald. "You had a call."

"Thank you," Gibbs said softly.

Before he left them alone, Gerald said if Gibbs wanted anything he'd be in the kitchen, for which Gibbs was grateful. A glance at the phone told him that there were no messages, so Gibbs stuck the phone in his pocket and figured that if the call were important they'd call back.

After a while, Tony stirred and let go of Gibbs so he could rub his eyes. Gibbs watched Tony closely, but whatever fight he had in him was gone, and he seemed worn out. Tony rolled off Gibbs' chest and although Gibbs really didn't want to let him go, he opened his arms and released him. Luckily, Tony didn't go far. He slumped next to Gibbs, his head resting on the back of the couch. Their shoulders touched, as did their thighs, but Tony didn't seem inclined to look Gibbs in the face.

Gibbs leaned forward and handed Tony one of the mugs of tea and took a sip from the other mug. All he could say about it was that it was hot.

Tony surprised him by saying in a soft voice, "You hate tea."

Gibbs turned to look at Tony, who was still averting his gaze. His cheeks were pink but there was no other evidence that he'd just gone through an emotional scene. "Tastes like horse piss."

After a short silence, Tony said, "Ducky likes his tea really strong and he uses loose tea, but if he has to use teabags he puts two in the cup at the same time." He drank some of the tea and put it back on the table, as did Gibbs.

Gibbs waited because he was pretty sure that Tony was about to make a point, and because he was pleased that Tony was speaking in a relatively normal manner. A Tony who was yelling and upset, even if he had a very good reason to be angry, was not someone he knew how to deal with.

"I was thinking that maybe…sometime…if you feel like it, when your leg is better, maybe you could teabag me?" Tony turned his head and looked right into Gibbs' eyes, and if Gibbs wasn't mistaken there was a wicked glint in their depths.

"Teabag you?" he asked vaguely, unable to concentrate on anything but Tony's green eyes.

"You know…" Tony made a motion with his hand that explained nothing. He rolled his eyes. "You sorta sit over my face and you…and I…your balls are like two teabags," he explained. "I'd like to suck on them, Jethro."

"Jesus, Tony," Gibbs said with a shake of his head, relieved and a bit embarrassed. This was out of left field, but at least it proved that Tony was bouncing back.

Tony gave a tentative smile. "Sorry about the meltdown, Jethro."

"Don't apologize. You were right."

"I meant what I said but I…I'm sorry I hit you and yelled at you because you're the last person in the world I want to hurt. I'm so sorry." He swallowed hard and stared at the floor until Gibbs took his hand. Tony laced his fingers through Gibbs' and whispered, "I love you so much it hurts."

"I love you, too, Tony." Gibbs took a breath and said something he rarely said, and it scared him. "I think it's time you and I had a long talk."

***–*** end chapter 58 ***–***


	59. The Talk

Gibbs stood just outside the doorway to the kitchen. He hung back so he didn't disturb Tony and Gerald, who were leaning against the counter, talking.

"I wanted to say goodbye," said Gerald. "I'm heading out to my class now so I probably won't see you again before you leave."

"Oh, well, it was nice meeting you," Tony replied politely, sounding disappointed.

Gerald pushed away from the counter and looked as if he was about to leave, but he only took a couple of steps before turning back. "Look, I know it's none of my business, but…My dad thought it was written in stone that I'd follow in his footsteps. He's a mortician; my family's had a funeral home business in Detroit for over a hundred years. I didn't want to disrespect him, go against his wishes, but I wanted to go into medicine. I did what my dad wanted until he started in on my girlfriend, saying she wasn't right for me, which was total bullshit. Like he'd know. I faced him, had it out. I said, 'Pop, this is my life and this is what I'm going to do with it. I love you but I can't live the way you expect me to.'"

Tony looked impressed. "He listened to you?"

"Oh, he listened, all right, and then he freaked out, big time." Gerald gave a rueful smile and shook his head. "I got my shit together, got into medical school and moved to DC. So here I am, my own man, doing my own thing."

"And your girl? She came with you?"

Gerald rubbed his hand over his short hair and said, "Well…She broke up with me and now she's married to my older brother. Does the bookkeeping for the Jackson & Son Funeral Home."

"Shit, I'm sorry," Tony said. "Took guts to face your dad like that, all the same."

"I was really angry at the time, but after a while I realized I'd done the right thing. Didn't matter in the end whether or not he gave me his blessing. I'd have liked to have had Pop's approval, of course, but I discovered I didn't _need_ it." Gerald laid a hand on Tony's shoulder in a brotherly gesture. "You should think about it, Tony, telling your father what you feel." He nodded in the direction of the doorway, and caught Gibbs' eye. "You've got a good friend over there who's stickin' by you, you know?"

Tony turned quickly and saw Gibbs, and a smile lit up his face. "Yeah, I know."

***–***

Gibbs savored his fifth cup of coffee that morning, drinking it slowly, enjoying its rich taste and aroma. He wouldn't say he was addicted to coffee, exactly, but it kept him going on an even keel all day long, and into the night, if need be. Without a strong cup of java first thing in the morning, he was a bear, or so he'd been told. Funny thing was that it never affected his sleep; once his head was on the pillow he was out like a light. His mother had been the same way. She had drunk coffee from morning 'til night and had joked that they must have a deficiency of some sort that only coffee could regulate.

He wished his mother were around, if only so she could share some of her wisdom and strength. And he'd have liked her to meet Tony, too. She'd be taken in by the young man's handsome face and good heart at first sight, just as her son had been. Gibbs chuckled, wondering what his mom would think of her tough-ass Marine son being head-over-heels in love with a man nearly fifteen years his junior. She'd probably give him advice, say something smart like, 'When you're in love, you have to think twice, Leroy. Once for yourself, and another for the one you love.'

His dad, well, he had a whole different outlook on life. Gibbs remembered, soon after Shannon and Kelly had died, how he'd sworn to his father that he'd never marry again. Jackson had replied, 'Son, you're a loner, always will be. It's just your way of avoiding disappointment. Sorry way to live, if you ask me.'

Jackson was wrong though. Gibbs enjoyed solitary pursuits but he had given Shannon and their daughter his undivided attention when he was with them, and right now his world revolved around Tony.

"Let's talk." They sat at the kitchen table, Gibbs at the head and Tony to his right. He'd prevented Tony from taking the seat across from him. That would have seemed too much like an interrogation. Gibbs wrapped his hands around his coffee cup as a way of preventing himself from reaching out to Tony. He had a craving to touch him, to grasp his wrist, to rub his back or to ruffle the short hairs at the nape of his neck, but he didn't give in to it.

It was obvious that Tony was still unsettled after listening to the recording. Who the hell wouldn’t be distressed after hearing yourself cry out in pain? It was killing Gibbs that he couldn’t sweep his lover into his arms and hug his troubles away, but all the love in the world wouldn't be enough to fix things, not if the underlying problem was never sorted out. Gibbs sighed, afraid that Ducky was right, that the only way to get all the crap behind them was to lay their issues out in the open.

Tony sat with his hands in his lap, his eyes on Gibbs' face, waiting intently to hear what he had to say.

Gibbs wasn't sure how to start the ball rolling so he jumped right in. "First off, I want to make it clear you have a voice here, Tony. I'll listen to whatever you have to say."

Tony raised his eyebrows a little. "Okay," he said, sounding unsure.

"You gotta speak up though. I'm not a mind reader," Gibbs said gruffly. "You want to do something then tell me. You have an equal say in everything, so long as it isn't dangerous." Tony nodded so Gibbs continued, "We've got to be honest with each other. I'm not used to talking about this stuff, so if at any time you think I'm not keeping my end of the bargain, you tell me, okay?"

"Okay, I can do that," Tony said, but he seemed somewhat uneasy, as if he was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

This was all about speaking their minds and listening to what the other had to say, but Tony was sitting there looking like he was too timid to speak up, which Gibbs didn't understand. It wasn't like Tony, not at all. Suddenly afraid that Tony was having second thoughts about their relationship, Gibbs said, "You don't sound too convinced. You don't think we can't make this work? Hell, it isn't going to be easy, but we can do this."

"No, I got it, Jethro. We need to be upfront with each other. Only, earlier? When I was yelling and said nobody listened to me, I didn't mean you." Tony regarded Gibbs with a sincere expression. "You're the only person who listens, really hears me. Except for Ducky."

Gibbs was pleased that Tony thought that he listened. Just the same, it was obvious that Gibbs hadn't been paying enough attention to Tony, or else he surely would have seen signs that Tony was planning to sneak out of the hotel and take matters into his own hands. He'd let his guard down, allowed Tony to distract him. "I should have known you'd go after Harding by yourself. Shoulda seen it," Gibbs said, reproaching himself. He wasn't the only one at fault here though. Tony had taken steps to ensure that the agents and his father were thrown off the scent. He'd lied and schemed, and had gone behind their backs in order to convince Harding to pick him up in the limo. Smart, on one hand, but ultimately a foolish thing to do.

Gibbs leaned towards Tony and threatened in a hard voice, "I'm telling you, Tony, if you ever… _ever_ do anything like that again, put yourself on the line, take that kind of risk, I'm going to come down on you _so hard_ …"

Tony's eyes widened at Gibbs' harsh tone, but he quickly overcame his astonishment. He licked his lips and smiled wickedly. "Well, you know I like it hard, Jethro. And I like making you hard, too."

Damn, if Tony was going to inject innuendos into what was supposed to be a serious talk, they'd never get through this conversation. Gibbs knew by now that adding sex to the mix was Tony's way of avoiding issues, and even if it spiced things up, it was a diversionary tactic and had to be stopped. "Don't," Gibbs said curtly, making sure that Tony understood he wasn't kidding around. "You do not need to do that, Tony."

At Gibbs' warning, Tony sat back, looking a little sulky. "Talk about putting a kibosh on the fun." He took notice of the way Gibbs' was glaring at him and he raised his hands. "All right, I'll lay off, but I know how much you like me to talk dirty so I'll save it for later."

Gibbs sighed and said, "I know you thought you had good reason to go after Harding but I don't want you doing anything dangerous–"

"Look," Tony interrupted. "I thought you were going to lose your job because of me."

"My job?" Gibbs took a moment to collect himself and said through gritted teeth, "My _job_ is not worth you getting hurt over, Tony. _Nothing_ is, you understand?"

Tony flushed and he nodded. He thought for a minute and said, "I guess the moral is that I'd better learn to talk to you first, even if I know you won't like what I have to say."

"Think you can do that?"

"I'll try."

"Try?"

Tony sighed. "I will talk things over with you. All right?"

"All right," Gibbs agreed with a smile. "I expect there'll be lots of things we won't agree on, but we need to be upfront, Tony. I can't be worrying you'll pull some dumb-ass stunt when I'm not around."

Shannon may have been easygoing but she'd dug in her heels upon occasion, so Gibbs knew all about give and take. Even so, he wasn't very good at giving of himself, not in the way his partner might expect. He'd be forthright and truthful readily enough when asked, but voluntarily being open with his feelings was not his strong point. It had taken him a while to get the hang of how to live as a couple, especially as he had been deployed overseas for a good amount of his married life. He had a feeling that it was going to be hard going, living with Tony, but so long as they loved each other they'd work it out.

Tony shifted on the hard kitchen chair and asked, "Are you always going to have the final say? I mean, what happens if we don't agree? Are we going to be able to make this work, Jethro? Living together? I've never done this before and I'm getting sort of nervous here."

"Hey, this is new territory for me, too." Gibbs reached across the table and took hold of Tony's hand. It was warm and not at all sweaty like his was. He'd never before had a long-term relationship outside of marriage, and having one with a man – one that they had to keep it a secret – was going to be like walking through a minefield. He said reassuringly, "I promise you that I'll do everything I can to make a good home for us, Tony. A safe haven. And I'm not going to make you do anything you don't want to do. And…uh…I figure we can take things slow."

"Slow?" Tony asked warily.

Feeling a flush rising from his neck to his cheeks, Gibbs cleared his throat and said, "Yeah, slow. If you don't want to…to…you know…uh…do more than…Oh _fuck_. Aw hell, I didn't mean that! Well, I did mean it. Just didn't plan on saying it like that." He thought that, what with everything that had happened to him, Tony might not want their intercourse to include anal sex. Gibbs shrugged self-consciously. "Don't want you to feel pressured."

Tony met Gibbs' eyes, amused. "Now who's nervous? It's okay, Jethro," he said, squeezing Gibbs' hand. "I get the picture. I know you won't fuck me if I don't feel comfortable about it."

"If you're not okay with it, I can wait," Gibbs offered, hoping that wasn't going to be the case.

"It's sort of strange talking about sex, sitting here in Ducky's kitchen. Let's talk about it when we're home." Tony bit his bottom lip and intertwined their fingers. "But…um, Jethro, I think I might need you to tell me what to do."

"What?" Surprised, Gibbs sat back and studied the young man sitting at his side. Was it guidance he wanted? Or had Tony become so used to domineering men telling him what to do that he couldn’t function without being given explicit directions? No, that couldn’t be the case, or else Tony would never have broken away from his father and made it to college halfway across the country. In case Tony hadn't fully understood, Gibbs reiterated, "But you'll have a say. I can't make your choices for you."

"I trust you," Tony said honestly.

That really got to Gibbs, Tony giving him such an unconditional gift. There was a lot of responsibility that came hand in hand with that trust, and he knew he'd better not mess it up. "That's a lot of trust, Tony."

"I know, but that's what I need. For right now, anyway. I just can't…can't make decisions." Tony gripped Gibbs' hand as if it were a lifeline. "See, I'm feeling sort of weird right now, like my body got beamed up to the Enterprise and left my brain behind. I don't know who I really am, or what I'm supposed to be doing. Listening to that tape? It was like I was having an out-of-body experience; I literally watched myself walking out of the hotel and into that limo, saw myself giving him a blowjob. And all that other shit, too. I mean, Christ, when he was raping that boy…" Tony shook his head.

He looked close to tears and Gibbs reached out his hand and stroked his cheek.

"I couldn't move, Jethro. I wanted to do something, anything, but I _couldn’t_. It was…really bad."

"That's why I didn't want you to hear it," Gibbs said stubbornly, letting his hand fall away from Tony's face.

Tony's voice rose as he demanded, "I know, but don’t you think I had the right to know what that freak did to me? Like how I got these burns, these marks all over my body?"

"Of course you do but…" Gibbs held onto both of Tony's hands and tried to calm him down. "Tony. Tony, listen to me. Hey, you listening?" He waited for a nod before saying, "I understand that you need to fill in the gaps. I would have talked to you about what happened when the time was right. Told you what you couldn’t remember, what you'd missed. I was going to, later, when…" He would have done so when some time had gone by, when things weren't quite so raw… It suddenly struck Gibbs that that wasn't true, not at all. He'd honestly believed that it was his intention to tell Tony everything, but now he knew otherwise. "No. No, that's not true. I wouldn't have told you, not the whole thing, anyway. I didn't want you to hear it, to know what that fucked-up bastard said and did to you. And I'm not going to apologize for feeling that way."

Tony seemed to accept that as being the truth, though whether he was angry with him or not for holding back, Gibbs couldn’t tell. Tony nodded slowly and admitted, "I didn't set out to listen to it, you know. I opened the Walkman to get the tape out so I could put some music in, and I saw it said 'FBI' on the tape and I knew what it was."

Gibbs rubbed his face. "I shouldn't have left it lying around." He'd been tired and had made a grave error. He looked up to find that Tony was staring at him with an odd expression. "What's the matter?"

"You listened to it last night," Tony whispered, as if he'd suddenly realized something disturbing. "And then you came to bed. You didn't want to make love to me. You didn't want me at all."

"Oh no, Tony, don't think that–"

"You said you wanted to sleep, to give it a couple of days," Tony accused, dragging his hands out of Gibbs' grip.

"I wanted you to have time."

"Time? For _what_? To get over it? To get the taste of that motherfucker out of my mouth? Time for you to realize you'd be better off without me?" Tony was shaking his head in denial, as if it were impossible for them to get over any of those things.

"No! Time for you to recover! For God's sake, Tony, you think I was going to have sex with you so soon after…?" Gibbs shook his head. Of course they _had_ had sex – made love – and they'd comforted each other in a base, physical way. Jacking each other off had helped, at least temporarily, to keep the bad shit at bay. "What I want is to put this behind us, but I know it's not going to happen overnight. That man raped you, Tony!" There, he'd said it aloud. "Not once, but _twice_ , damn it, and he and your father have been fucking you over for years. We need to get out from under that before we can be–"

"Be together?" Tony asked with pain and fear reflected in his eyes.

"No, we _are_ together. I meant…you need time to heal. I want to be with you but I don't want to hurt you, or scare you off. I want to take care of you, but I don't know if that's the right thing to do, Tony. Hell, I've never done this before and I'm feeling out of my depth here," Gibbs said, not liking the hint of desperation that had crept into his voice.

Tony turned away, his head down so his long hair fell over his face, and it took Gibbs a minute to realize Tony was silently weeping. "Oh Tony," Gibbs said, and he stood and pulled the young man out of his chair and into his arms. Tony immediately pressed his face into Gibbs' neck, breathing unevenly, and he wrapped his arms around Gibbs' waist, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt in his hands. "What's this all about?" Gibbs asked, stroking Tony's hair, thinking he should have seen this coming. He felt Tony's warm tears soaking through his shirt and after a while they seemed to ease so he pulled back enough to look at Tony's face. God, Tony looked so confused, so sad, it was breaking his heart. Cupping Tony's cheeks, Gibbs wiped the tears away with his thumbs, and then kissed him gently, and then again, soft assurances that he was there for him. "There's no need for this," he said, feeling inadequately equipped to deal with the tears.

Tony looked at Gibbs and blinked, his green eyes fringed with wet, spiky eyelashes. "I guess I'm feeling out of my depth, too," he said, attempting a small smile.

"Let's take this a step at a time. Tell me what you need right now, and we'll handle it together," Gibbs said firmly, thinking he was going to need some solid advice on how to deal with this.

Tony inhaled a ragged breath and said, "Um, I think that right now, I…I need to lean on you. Just for a little while, if that's okay?"

"You lean on me all you want. I'm always here for you. Never doubt that, Tony."

Tony seemed relieved, his shoulders relaxing a little. He put his head on Gibbs' shoulder and murmured, "I know that."

No wonder Tony was lost, what with everything that he'd gone through, and all the changes that were going on in his life. Now that his father was likely to face jail time, or, if he was lucky, to be put under witness protection, the anchor Tony had relied upon all his life had been wrested away. Even if Senior had been an abysmal parent, Tony had relied upon his dad to take care of him, as any child would.

In a way, Senior had done the right thing by his son a couple of times that Gibbs knew of; introducing that chastity belt had certainly saved Tony from being fucked by Harding. Senior had also sent Tony straight into Gibbs's arms, knowing that Gibbs would protect Tony from Senator Harding. On the other hand, Senior had also instructed his son to find out if NCIS was likely to arrest him during the course of their investigation into the missing sailors. That was typical of DiNozzo Sr., smiling to your face, meantime ruthlessly pursuing his own agenda behind your back, never mind the damage he left in his wake. In the end, nothing that Senior did could possibly right the terrible wrongs he'd brought down on his son, and Gibbs would do everything in his power to ensure that the man never touched Tony – in any way – ever again.

After a while Gibbs got Tony to sit at the table again while he poured him a tall glass of orange juice. After refreshing his coffee, Gibbs sat next to him. Tony drank the juice thirstily, as Gibbs had thought he would. His eyes were re-rimmed and he occasionally sniffed, but it seemed as though he had regained his composure sufficiently to talk some more. Gibbs asked, just to make sure. "You okay? If you want to go to the bedroom, maybe lie down for a while…"

It was a sign that Tony wasn't himself that he didn't make Gibbs' offer into a sexual come on. He just shook his head and said in a subdued manner, "You know, I don't remember a lot, which like you said is probably a good thing, but there are these…fragments." Tony looked at Gibbs with haunted eyes. "Most of it's fuzzy but I kept hearing someone crying out, like it was in a dream, and I woke up, and I remember seeing you standing there. It was like you appeared out of nowhere. You were only a few feet away, pointing your gun at me. Or I thought it was at me until I realized that psycho was hanging onto me, holding me upright. I wasn't mad or scared or anything because I thought, Jethro, he's here, and everything's gonna be fine now." Tony laughed as if he'd been stupid to think that way. "But it wasn't fine, was it? He dragged me outside and onto a boat and…and I saw you get shot." Tony stopped and swallowed, his eyes unfocused as he remembered Gibbs taking a shot to the chest and going down. He turned his gaze to Gibbs and reached out a hand, tentatively touching his chest, seeking assurance. "I thought he'd killed you. You're really all right?"  
  
Gibbs nodded. "The vest took the hit, Tony." Tony had seen his bare chest last night but Gibbs lifted his shirt anyway, to prove there was only a bruise. It was plum-colored, mottled, and looked almost as painful as it was, but at least the lead hadn't penetrated his chest or he definitely would not be sitting here talking to Tony right now.  
  
Tony frowned. "I saw you go down and I…I shoved Sir away, and all of a sudden we were in the water and _God_ , I have never been so cold; you could die from cold like that. I remember my hands were tied…"

"Cuffed," Gibbs said, running gentle thumbs over the abrasions the cuffs had left on Tony's wrists.

"I was drowning." Tony stared at Gibbs, remembering. "You jumped in and saved me," he said in awe. "I just remembered that."

Tony started to shake a little and Gibbs stood again and pulled him in his arms, squeezing his eyes shut, trying to block out the memory of the icy fear that had coursed through him when he'd thought Tony had drowned, that he'd lost him forever. "I've got you. You're all right," Gibbs whispered into Tony's hair. "We're both fine now." For a few minutes they remained standing, holding each other close, breathing in their scent, their life. Gibbs said, "C'mon, let's go where it's more comfortable," and guided Tony into their bedroom.

They sat on the bed, content to be close, shoulders touching and their arms around each other. Tony looked worn out and Gibbs was feeling enough pain in his leg to wonder where he could find his medication. God, what a morning, from the highs of making out with Tony before Ducky butted in, to the lows of Tony having a meltdown – or two – over what he'd heard on the tape and had started to understand all of its implications.

Tony must have sensed he was in pain because he rose, found Gibbs' meds, and handed them to him with a fresh glass of water. "Looks like you need someone to take care of you, too," said Tony.

"Know anyone who's up to the job?" asked Gibbs with a fond smile.

"I know this college kid," Tony said.

"Bet he's a fast learner."

"Good teacher, too."

Gibbs looked at him sideways. "Teacher?"

"Yeah, the things he knows…" Tony hugged Gibbs and rested his head on his shoulder.

Gibbs kissed Tony's temple. "I'm looking forward to learning, then." If Tony wanted Gibbs to make important decisions, that was fine by him. It felt natural to determine what they'd do, how they'd live, as he was older and more experienced, but Gibbs knew he'd have to be careful not to take Tony for granted. "Tell you what, I'll take the lead for now. We'll see how it works out and talk about it again later. When you come home for the summer."

That brought a smile to Tony's face. "The summer?"

In a couple of months, Tony would finish his freshman year at OSU. Best-case scenario, he'd be living with Gibbs, in their home, working a summer job. They could figure out the details later, because there were other matters on the plate that had to be dealt with first.

With a wry smile, Gibbs pointed out, "You may regret giving me free rein."

"No, I'll never regret it, Jethro."

"Better not," Gibbs said with a mock frown. "No regrets allowed." He broke his own rule to allow Tony to make the first move, capturing Tony's lips with his own. Gibbs invaded Tony's mouth, proving he was the one in charge, and Tony gave in, moaning softly. Twining his fingers in Tony's hair, holding him in place even though Tony needed no such encouragement, Gibbs relaxed his mouth and made the kisses less of a battle and more about pleasure. He loved everything about Tony's mouth, his taste, the hot smoothness of it, and the feeling of Tony's tongue when it ran sweeping arcs across his lips when Gibbs pulled away a little. For a moment they stayed close, foreheads touching, panting a little and smiling as if they were teenagers who had just discovered some illicit pleasure.

Tony kissed Gibbs' cheek and breathed hotly in his ear, one hand rubbing gentle circles across Gibbs' chest muscle. He kissed Gibbs and flicked his tongue across his lips, all the time making little sounds of desire.

Gibbs raised his hand to the back of Tony's head, pulling him closer, taking in more of his tongue, sucking and kissing fiercely, offering love and promises. Tony angled his head and opened his mouth wider, accepting everything that Gibbs gave him with a moan.

It was Gibbs who stopped it, hands on Tony's upper arms, pushing him away and holding him there, breathing heavily and fighting his craving to take Tony, to yank his pants down and fuck him right then and there. Gibbs laughed and his laughter turned into a groan. So much for going slowly.

"C'mon, Jethro," cajoled Tony, hands under Gibbs' shirt, his thumb rubbing back and forth over one of his hardened nipples and then the other. "Don't stop."

Gibbs shook his head ruefully. "We have to…to stop. Talk."

"Enough talk," moaned Tony, wriggling until he somehow got past Gibbs' defenses and ended up half on his lap. He latched his mouth onto Gibbs' neck and sucked while his hand slid down his belly and clamped onto his groin.

"God…have to…uh…stop." Gibbs' cock responded to the hand that was caressing its length. It hardened and strained against the confines of his sensible Sears' twill pants that were proving to be an insufficient barrier to the insistent demands of Tony's fingers. "Don't," Gibbs said, trying to ward off Tony but not doing a very good job. It was obvious that his heart wasn't really in it.

Tony kissed a soft spot under his chin and then sucked at the skin there, and Gibbs could feel the vibration when Tony said, "Nice."

Gibbs warned, "No…no hickeys." Shit, his brain seemed to stop working altogether whenever Tony touched him. There was something…they had to do. Talk, that was it. More talk. About something…important. It took all of his willpower to take a firm hold of Tony and physically force him back, to sit on the bed a foot away from him, but somehow Gibbs did it. "Stay there and listen," he admonished, refusing to give in to the plea in Tony's eyes.

Gibbs ran his hands down Tony's arms and gently clasped his fingers around his wrists, needing the contact but mindful of his healing wounds there. The next thing they had to discuss was how to deal with Tony's father.

Gibbs had heard what Gerald had said to Tony, and it was obvious that Tony wanted to confront his father. There wasn't much time in which to do so, as Fornell had said they were flying DiNozzo to New York that afternoon. Hating that he had to do this with every fiber of his being, Gibbs ground out, "You want to see your dad before he leaves?" If DiNozzo rolled over and gave the FBI what they wanted, and Torres was brought to trial, Tony's father was likely to be put into the witness protection program. Tony would never see him again. Gibbs was all for Senior disappearing from their lives but even if the man was a contender for World's Worst Parent, Gibbs knew it would hit Tony hard.

Tony looked at him hopefully, as if he thought Gibbs would deny him the chance to see his father one more time. "I thought you…"

"I'm not doing this for him," Gibbs pointed out. This would give Tony the chance to finally find the strength and will to break away from his father. He'd get some of that damned closure people were always talking about.

Tony looked away for a moment. To collect himself, Gibbs could tell. Then he turned back to Gibbs with gratitude in his eyes. "I know you're doing this for me. Yes, I want to speak to him."

"Did you get all your stuff from the hotel?"

"No, I…uh…I only brought what I needed for a few days. I left my suits there and Dad has all his things there, too. Unless the FBI guys picked them up already."

Taking a deep breath, Gibbs made a decision. "We'll pack your stuff and we can pack up his bag at the same time."

"Bags," Tony corrected, looking distracted as if he couldn't quite comprehend what Gibbs was saying. "My father doesn't know how to travel light."

Gibbs sighed. "I'll call Fornell, confirm the time they're taking off. If you're sure you're up to it, I'll take you to say goodbye and–" Before Gibbs could finish his sentence, Tony had his arms around Gibbs' neck, hugging him. "Hey, it's not that big a deal, Tony," he protested.

Tony leaned back and smiled at Gibbs. "Sometimes I wonder if you really don't get it, Jethro, and I love you anyway."

Gibbs was about to respond but his cell phone started ringing. He kept one arm around Tony's waist while he snagged his jacket from the end of the bed and found his phone in a pocket. "Hey, I was about to call you, Fornell."

There was a lot of background noise and Fornell was shouting down the line. "Gibbs! The safe house was attacked! Some asshole shot us with a fucking great rocket and–"

***–*** end chapter 59 ***–***


	60. Traitor

Gibbs stood, his cell phone to his ear. "Fornell!" He heard some static and then the FBI agent's voice came in more clearly.

"…we have two dead. Several wounded."

"Who was killed?" There was no immediate response so Gibbs shouted, "Fornell! Who's down?"

Gibbs could feel Tony behind him, hanging onto him, demanding in a panicky voice, "What's going on? My dad?"

Fornell sounded shaken, as if it had only just sunk in. "One of mine. Bill. Bill McSweeney. His wife just had a baby. _Jesus_."

Gibbs asked insistently, "Who's the shooter? Was it Torres?"

There was a lot of shouting, and sirens, and then Gibbs heard a car door close with a thump, shutting out the background noise. Fornell came back on the line. "It's chaos here, Gibbs, but I knew you'd want to know about DiNozzo."

"My dad?" Tony must have heard what Fornell said as he was standing so close to Gibbs, right at his side.

Fornell said, "There was glass flying everywhere. Half the goddamn house came down! He used a fucking _rocket_ on us, Gibbs!"

Gibbs tried to get the FBI agent's attention. "Fornell!"

"We took him out, but damn it, _damn it_!"

Gibbs tuned out Tony, who was looking at him with big, anxious eyes, and yelled into the phone, "Tobias!"

"What?" Fornell snapped.

Gibbs barked into the phone, "Did you kill Torres or not?"

Gibbs could hear Fornell breathing heavily, but the FBI agent pulled himself together and said, "What? No, it wasn't Torres. Initial ID is for Manuel Parkes of Brooklyn."

"Manny Parkes? The suspect from the robbery at the armory in Newark," Gibbs said.

"How'd you know about him?" Fornell demanded.

Gibbs explained, "My people have been trying to get a lead on Parkes' whereabouts. We know he left New York a couple of days ago and believe he was bringing Torres a passport."

"Well, gee, Gibbs, thanks for keeping us apprised," Fornell said sarcastically. "Nothing like a little inter-agency cooperation."

"Hey, your people wrote Parkes off as unimportant," Gibbs responded. "We hoped we'd spot him once he got to DC and he'd lead us to Torres, but we had no idea he was mounting an attack."

Tony made a small noise of impatience and Gibbs squeezed his shoulder and told him with a meaningful look to wait.

"There was no passport in the van," Fornell said. "No papers of any kind. The van, which was stolen, was clean except there was one more anti-tank missile in the back."

"How many were missiles were taken from the armory?"

"There were four M72 missiles," Fornell said.

Damn, that meant there were still two missiles unaccounted for. The M72s were shoulder-fired rockets that could be handled by one man. They were capable of taking out a tank at relatively close range, and could cause major damage to a building, as Fornell and his men had found out firsthand. "And no sign of Torres?"

"Nope. If Torres watched the fireworks, he kept out of sight. Nothing to indicate that he was ever with Parkes. We've got everybody out beating the bushes for him though – we'll get him," Fornell said with a determined voice.

"Jethro," pled Tony, hanging onto his arm, trying to get his attention.

Gibbs said, "Okay, Tony. Fornell, how badly was Senior hurt?"

"He had lacerations on the scalp and arm from a window that blew in, but you'd think from the way he was going on about it, he'd lost his entire arm," Fornell complained. "EMTs took care of it and he's been taken to a safe place until we get this sorted out."

Gibbs relayed the message to Tony, who seemed a little less freaked out once he heard his father hadn't been injured badly enough to be hospitalized. "So how did this Parkes find out where you were keeping DiNozzo?"

"Hell if I know, but I'm damned well going to find out! The location of the Bureau's safe houses is strictly need-to-know, and only my director and my team knew which house we stayed in last night. And it wasn't the same house we used before; we've been moving DiNozzo around like musical chairs."

Gibbs had to ask a difficult question, one that was sure to get his head snapped off. "Who's on your team?"

There was a pause and then Fornell said in a tight voice, "Don't even think that, Gibbs."

He asked again, emphasizing each word. "Who is on your team, Agent Fornell?"

"Damn it, Gibbs." After a pause, Fornell said, "Agents Esposito and Greene, who you know, and Bill McSweeney. I'll have to break the news to his wife. And at the last minute they stuck me with Agent Dickson."

That surprised Gibbs. "Dickson's on protection detail?"

"The brass came down on him for the way he treated you, and they put him on my team."

"What, are they trying to punish him or _you_?"

"Tell me about it. Hell, I'm the one who reported him. It doesn't matter," Fornell said dismissively. "Dickson won't be around long enough to do any serious damage; they're sending him back to New York. He and Greene are escorting DiNozzo to the New York field office, now that DiNozzo's started to tell us everything he knows about Torres' operation and naming names. They're flying up on DiNozzo's Gulfstream and the U. S. Marshals will meet them there."

"So you finally got him to talk," said Gibbs with a snort. From the way that Tony was looking at Gibbs, he knew what they were talking about, and Gibbs felt a wave of empathy for him. Poor kid, knowing his father was possibly heading to prison and maybe, if Senior played his cards right, into the Federal Witness Protection Program. Gibbs slid his left arm around Tony's shoulders and pulled him in for a one-armed hug. Tony stayed close, chest flush against Gibbs', his silky hair rubbing across Gibbs' cheek, warm breath on his neck. His arms slipped around Gibbs' waist and stayed there.

Fornell said, "DiNozzo has a lot to talk about, which is making some people very unhappy."

"You don't say," Gibbs said sarcastically. "Bet he's holding back." If he knew DiNozzo Sr. at all, he'd say that the man would withhold important information so he could use it as bargaining chips somewhere down the line.

"There are a lot of charges pending against him – economic espionage, conspiracy, trafficking weapons–"

"Don’t forget, helping Harding dispose of a body," added Gibbs.

"That, too, but if there's a way to wiggle out of them, I'm sure DiNozzo will find it," agreed Fornell.

Even if DiNozzo somehow managed to avoid jail time, now that the mob was after him he would never be able to show his face in public again. If he did, he'd end up cut into small pieces and dumped at the side of the Jersey Turnpike. Fear of the mob must make the witness program seem like a Godsend to him, though Gibbs couldn’t imagine Senior agreeing to change his identity and relocate to some Midwest city. He'd have to lay low for the rest of his life, play the part of Mr. Joe Schmoe, shoe salesman, and he would be totally isolated from everything and everybody he'd ever known. Gibbs grinned at the thought.

Gibbs asked, "Agent Dickson – what's his connection with the robbery in Newark?" He'd read the report because of the FBI agents being killed in an ambush. Now it came back to him that he'd seen Dickson's name on the report but he couldn’t remember what his role had been.

Fornell said, "Hang on. The ME is here."

Gibbs heard the FBI man having a brief conversation with someone and then he was back on the line. When Fornell didn't immediately speak up, Gibbs prompted, "Tell me what went down in Newark."

"Gibbs…"

"I need to know."

Fornell let out a deep sigh. "Fine. We were working with the ATF, trying to bring down a gang of thieves that was hitting armories and gun shops along the east coast. We knew they were backed by the mob and we suspected this guy Sharpe might be their driver. No evidence though. Every time our guys got close, the thieves were tipped off. When the investigating team finally got a break a few months ago, they went to the armory to question a guard and walked in on a robbery in progress. There was a firefight and two of our agents got killed."

"And Dickson was one of the agents there that day?" Gibbs was pretty sure he knew the answer but he wanted to hear it from Fornell.

"Yeah, he was on a special task force investigating the mob's Colombian connections. He accompanied those two agents to the armory. We lost two good men, but he survived, walked away without a scratch. He asked to be transferred to DC a couple of weeks later."

"Where was he when Parkes fired that missile into the safe house this morning?"

"There was a shift change and Agent Dickson was just leaving, going to his car. We keep the vehicles out of sight in the garage out back. It's detached, set away from the house. Dickson was in a hurry because he had to finish packing for his move back to New York and…and I followed him, tried to catch him. He'd forgotten his caddy of poker chips. He took it everywhere with him and I knew he wouldn’t want to leave it behind. I was halfway to the garage when this van pulled up in front of the house and next thing I know the van door slides open and there's this guy with a bazooka on his shoulder and he launches a freaking huge missile. Hit the front of the house dead-on. My other agents and DiNozzo only survived because they were escorting DiNozzo to the bathroom at the back of the house. Just a couple of minutes earlier they'd been sitting in the front room playing poker with Dickson…" Fornell's words trailed off and a moment later he blurted, "No! No way, Gibbs."

Gibbs stated, as if he knew it was fact, "Torres had his men rip off weapons that he could ship to his buddies in Colombia, targeting armories because the security isn't very high. He paid and FBI agent inside, Dickson, to tip him off when the FBI got too close."

"What, so you think Dickson is in Torres' pocket? And that automatically means he gave him the safe house address so Parkes could come on over and blast the house with an anti-tank missile? C'mon, that's crazy, Gibbs. Dickson is a narrow-minded asshole, but wouldn't do that. He's been with the Bureau for over twenty years. You're pulling this stuff out of your ass."

Gibbs didn't push Fornell any further but as soon as he got to the Navy Yard he'd look into Dickson's background, get Jenny to check his phone and bank records. He bet that Fornell would do some of his own investigating now the seed had been sown. Admittedly, just because Dickson was an asshole didn't make him a traitor to his own agency. And even though Gibbs hated the man's guts, he found it hard to believe Dickson would sell out the safe house location and get his fellow agents blasted to hell in the process. But at this moment Gibbs' instinct said that was the most likely scenario. "Where is Dickson now?"

"He drove back to the office to give his statement, and to finish making the arrangements for transferring DiNozzo later today," Fornell said dubiously. "Guess I'd better find the man and ask him a few questions of my own."

"Ya think?"

Obviously aggravated, Fornell said, "I've got to go clean up this mess. I'll catch you later. Just thought Tony should know his father's all right."

"Thanks, Fornell." Tony had raised his head and was looking at Gibbs expectantly so Gibbs said, "One more thing. Tony wants to see his father before you ship him out."

"Hell, Gibbs, security's going to be extra tight now. It'll be hard to arrange–"

"Here, _you_ explain it to Tony," said Gibbs, and handed his phone to Tony, who took it eagerly.

"Agent Fornell, how's my dad?"

Gibbs kept his hand on Tony's shoulder, and watched Tony's face, glad to see his anxiety eased a bit as Fornell talked to him.

Tony was biting his thumbnail and then he said, "Okay. Thanks, Agent Fornell. Here he is." He handed the phone to Gibbs.

Gibbs listened as Fornell told him Tony could come to the airport, and gave him the flight information. Just as Gibbs was about to hang up, Fornell said, "Look Gibbs, my director it's a pretty sure thing that DiNozzo Sr. isn't going to see any prison time and he'll be enrolled in the witness program."

"But?" Gibbs waited for the bad news he had a suspicion was coming any minute now.

"Yeah, well, DiNozzo has more to tell us, like the names of some high-ranking government officials who have been working with Alonzo Torres, and the location of some hidden bank accounts."

"So what's holding him back?" Gibbs could only imagine.

It was with chagrin that Fornell said, "He's made it clear that there's something he wants before he says another word."

Gibbs had a sinking feeling but he had to ask, "What does Senior want?"

"I'm sorry Gibbs, but he won't budge."

"Spit it out, Tobias," Gibbs ordered.

Fornell blurted, "He is demanding that his son goes under with him, takes on a new identity."

Gibbs immediately released Tony and limped from the bedroom and into the hallway. He shut the door behind him and growled into the phone, "There is no way in hell that I am going to let that bastard take Tony with him. No way!" God, Tony would have to change his name, his habits, his looks – he'd have to relinquish all contact with everyone he'd ever known, and that would include Gibbs. "That bastard is using you, Tobias, to make sure that Tony remains under his control!"

"DiNozzo won't give us everything he has on Torres until he has the guarantee that Tony will accompany him into his new life and –"

"You bastard, you knew this all along," Gibbs accused, trying to keep his voice down so Tony wouldn't hear. "Well you can forget about it! You tell Senior that if he even _suggests_ that Tony goes with him, I will personally inform the mob of his whereabouts. And if the mob doesn't handle it then I'll track Senior down to Buttfuck, Idaho, or wherever you stick his sorry ass, and I will do the job _for_ them. You make sure he understands that, Fornell!" Gibbs snapped his phone shut and leaned against the wall, shaking with anger.

***–*** end chapter 60 ***–***


	61. Anger

Tony found him in the kitchen, arms braced on either side of the sink, staring out the window at the late-winter garden. Gibbs had retreated there to regain his composure, and after he'd cooled down a bit he had come to realize that his reaction to Fornell's admission was about more than anger. He felt a distinct unease about the situation, almost to the point of fear. Not so much fear of losing Tony, because Tony would never go with his father, at least not voluntarily. But the bad feeling, like the kind he got when an enemy had him in his crosshairs, persisted. Gibbs told himself to stop worrying; there was no way that Senior would be able to coerce Tony to join him in his new life as a protected witness.

Still, Gibbs was concerned about Senior's ultimatum that unless his son went into the program with him, he would not give the FBI whatever they needed to convict Alonzo Torres. It was typical of the man that he would drag his son into his mess with no regard for what Tony might want or need, and it made Gibbs wish he could get his hands around DiNozzo Sr.'s neck and throttle him.

Senior must have figured out by now, from the FBI's line of questioning, that the millions of dollars he'd stashed in a Cayman Island bank was missing, and that the person who had made off with his fortune was none other than Tony. DiNozzo would reason that once he gained control over his son, he could get his hands on the money that Tony had secretly transferred out of his offshore account. And if Senior could find a way out of the FBI's custody, and Gibbs had no doubt he'd find a way, he'd leave the US and buy his way into a foreign country that didn't support extradition.

The feds would persevere in their search for DiNozzo Sr.'s funds in an attempt to stake their own claim on the illicit earnings. So far they had no idea that Tony had taken – okay, _stolen_ – the proceeds from his father's weapons deal. If the FBI had known, they would have been all over Tony by now. Apparently Tony had covered up the money trail very well, but at some point the FBI would figure it out and then they'd come after Tony and would seize his father's ill-gained assets. Gibbs reminded himself he'd have to have a serious talk with Tony about that later on.

Tony's hands slid up and down Gibbs' back and then his arms wrapped around Gibbs' waist to hug him tightly. He stroked Gibbs' stomach in slow, calming circles, and laid his cheek upon his shoulder with a sigh. They stood there quietly for a little while before Gibbs turned to face Tony, staying within the circle of his arms. Tony had such a serious look on his face that Gibbs's heart sank.

Tony waited a couple of seconds before asking, "So, are you going to tell me what Fornell said, or do we have to play twenty questions?"

Hell, what could he say? _'Your father is trying to take you away from me and you're good-hearted enough to forgive him and, okay, I'm scared shitless what that might mean for us. He's a greedy, self-centered, arrogant bastard, and I won't let him have you, and if that makes me just as greedy and self-centered as he is, then so be it.'_ The words that actually came out of Gibbs' mouth were, "You pissed at me?"

Tony sent Gibbs an incredulous look and said sarcastically, "Oh no, why would I be? I just love it when I'm pushed aside and the door is shut in my face to keep me out of a conversation that I know concerns me." Tony made a visible effort to speak calmly but his voice sounded strained. "We are going to be sharing our lives, Jethro, and that doesn't mean only _some_ of our lives. It means _all_ of our lives – everything. So keeping secrets is not an option." For emphasis he poked at Gibbs' chest with a finger when he said, "You get that? Because if you don't, then we need to talk until we get this straight."

"I was angry," Gibbs said defensively, keeping a gentle hold on Tony's arms just above his bandaged wrists.

Tony stepped back, not enough to entirely lose contact with Gibbs, but far enough away to make it clear he wasn't very pleased. "What did I do? I just wanted to know about my dad, and I was worried he was hurt–"

"No, not angry with you, Tony." Tony didn't look entirely convinced, so even though Gibbs didn’t want to break the news to him about Senior's demands to the FBI, he knew he had to. He almost choked on the words. "Fornell says your father may go into the witness protection program and…and he wants you to go with him."

With a dismissive shrug of one shoulder, Tony said, "Yeah, I know."

"You know?"

"Sure, that's been on the table from the moment the feds picked Dad up. Besides, you were talking pretty loud on the phone and it wasn't hard to figure out what Fornell was saying to you. Look, in the first place, my father will never go with this scheme to give him a new identity, not even if it's meant to protect him from the mob. I mean, if Torres really wants to get him, he'll get him, and no way does my father trust the feds to keep him safe. His plan has been to go to the Middle East, right from the start. I told you he was selling everything, pulling up stakes. That's why he risked double-crossing his partners over the deal with the freighter, to make some fast bucks and run for it. He must have realized it was time to get the hell out when it became obvious that his buddy was murdering people."

"And Senior planned take you with him," Gibbs argued loudly. "He planned on _selling_ you, for Chrissake."

Tony surprised Gibbs by laughing. "He wouldn't really do that, Jethro." He smiled fondly at Gibbs, as if he'd said something silly, and hugged him close, and one of his hands snuck down to squeeze Gibbs' ass.

Their groins met and Gibbs immediately felt his body react. It was apparent from the satisfied smile on Tony's lips that he knew exactly what their close proximity was doing to Gibbs. Driving in the point, Tony made a side-to-side motion with his hips, and Gibbs followed his lead, engaging in a slow dance that brought a flush to his cheeks.

Without losing a beat, Tony said, "He's threatened to sell me on the auction block since I was a kid. Every time I did anything bad, Dad would warn me that there was this Arab prince who'd pay good money to make me his slave – which never seemed like the fate worse than death Dad intended it to be, especially after I watched 'Slave Girl' with Yvonne DeCarlo. You ever see it? It's this tits-and-sand flick from 1947 but there was this talking camel in the movie. At the time – I was probably around six – I thought how neat it would be to have a friend like Humpy."

Gibbs sort of lost the thread of the conversation after Tony said the word 'slave,' and compounded with the feeling of Tony's hard-on pressing against his thigh, it was getting difficult to concentrate on anything but the sensation of his lover in his arms and his growing need to get horizontal. "Humpy?" Gibbs mumbled, not really caring about hearing an explanation.

Tony kissed and nuzzled at Gibbs' neck and mused, in between kisses, "Yeah, Humpy the talking camel. Except later on, when I realized that Humpy's voice was by Buddy Hackett, I couldn't for the life of me figure out how Buddy got inside that camel." Tony licked Gibbs' ear and pulled at his earlobe with his teeth. "Mmm, you taste so good, Jethro. I drove Dad crazy asking him if I could have a Humpy of my own. That's when he took me by the arm and dragged me to this crazy lady's house, just down the road, and dumped me on her front porch. All the neighborhood kids said she was a witch but it turned out she wasn't all that bad. She had this huge color TV and I stayed with her all day watching soap operas and eating oatmeal cookies."

Gibbs didn't like hearing that Senior promised his kid that he'd sell him to a stranger if he didn't behave. Not at all. He couldn’t imagine threatening his own daughter, frightening her into being good, and it hit him that it was pretty amazing that Tony was as well balanced as he was after such a childhood. "Nobody threatens you, Tony," Gibbs said in a menacing voice.

Tony didn't seem to feel his father's behavior was out of line. "Your parents never said anything like that to you? It doesn't mean anything."

Gibbs solemnly shook his head. "Well it damned well means something to me. It means your father's is never going to get his hands on you, ever again. Nobody's going to give you away, either."

"Shit, you're really worried what my father's planning, aren't you? You're worried for me." Tony hugged Gibbs and whispered in his ear, "Oh, that's so sweet."

Gibbs wasn't sure if it was Tony's hot breath in his ear, or being called sweet, but his cock was reacting to having Tony so close to him. "Hmmm," he grunted, and licked Tony's neck where it was exposed above the collar of his turtleneck sweater. "I can't imagine anyone wanting to pay good money for you, anyhow, all the trouble you cause," he said lightly.

Tony leaned back and frowned at Gibbs. "Hey! I've been told I'm worth more than money."

"Can't imagine who would say such a thing," Gibbs retorted.

"I seem to recall it was a certain special agent I know, with gray hair and the most beautiful blue eyes I've ever seen." Tony smiled at Gibbs and ran a hand through his hair. "Have you seen that movie with Steve Martin, where he goes into the witness protection program–"

"Tony," Gibbs warned.

"– but he can't seem to keep out of trouble–"

Gibbs took hold of Tony's upper arms, pulled him to his chest and kissed him hard. Tony gave in so readily that Gibbs suspected Tony had started talking about movies just to get Gibbs to shut him up with a kiss. Tony surged against him, humming his pleasure in a way that went right to Gibbs' groin, and he grabbed Gibbs' hair at the back of his head as if he was afraid he'd get away, or change his mind, both of which were the last things on Gibbs' mind. They angled their heads and found the perfect fit, tongues battling for control until Gibbs leaned harder into the kiss and Tony gave in with a whimper. It was a while later when Gibbs slowly drew away, panting. He couldn't help smiling at the sound of protest that issued from Tony's kiss-swollen lips. He stroked his hand down the side of Tony's face, careful of the bruises there, and said in a husky voice, "You make me crazy, you know that, Tony?"

Tony took it as a compliment, and he replied, "Same with me, Jethro. I don't know what I'd do–"

"I don't care what it takes, but I won't let him have you, Tony." The phone in Gibbs' pocket started ringing and he swore and reluctantly released his hold on Tony in order to answer it. "Gibbs."

"Hey, Probie, grab your gear," said Mike Franks. "I'm picking you up in five."

"But I'm not cleared–"

"The director has made a special dispensation just for you," Franks said. "He wants us to check out the scene at the safe house and report right back to him. I've got your firearm and your badge right here, so be out front." He hung up before Gibbs could ask any questions.

***–***

Gibbs got himself ready as fast as he could, though he was hampered by his leg, which was aching from standing too long. He could tell that by the end of the day it was going to hurt like a bitch, but there was nothing to do but suck it up and get on with the job at hand. Tony met Gibbs by the front door, a gym bag in his hand, looking eager. Gibbs went to stick the FBI audiotape and papers in the bag and saw a couple of bottles of soda, half a sandwich, two apples and some cookies already taking up some space, and he raised his eyebrows. "This isn't a picnic, Tony."

Tony grinned. "It's an adventure."

"It's a case," Gibbs said curtly.

"You'll thank me when you get hungry," Tony said, not at all put off by Gibbs' grouchiness. He was shrugging himself into his jacket when he heard a car pull into the driveway. Gibbs immediately swept Tony behind him and opened the door with caution.

Franks came up the front walk, favoring his wounded leg and looking impatient. "Let's haul ass, Probie."

As he stepped out of Ducky's house, Gibbs noted that Pacci was in the driver's seat of a dark NCIS sedan, the engine running. He followed his boss, as did Tony, but they had only taken a couple of steps when Franks did an about-face and placed a hand on Tony's chest. "Whoa there, cowboy. You're not comin' this time." Gibbs glowered at Franks, who shook his head and said firmly, "Can't. We've got orders."

Damn it, if Franks said Tony wasn't coming with them, then that was final. "I need a minute," said Gibbs. Without looking at Tony, he took him by the arm and steered him back inside. As Gibbs closed the door partway so they'd have some privacy, he saw Franks shaking his head as he limped back to the car.

"Jethro," Tony implored, as soon as Franks was out of earshot.

"Tony, what Franks says, goes. He's my boss."

Tony looked at Gibbs with betrayal in his eyes. "You said we'd pick up Dad's and my things from the hotel, and go to the airport."

"Situation has changed."

"You said I could see my Dad before he leaves."

"You still want to see him?" He'd half hoped that Tony would give up on that idea.

Tony nodded and said firmly, "It'll be the last time, Jethro."

Gibbs ran a hand over his mouth, trying to figure out how to handle this. He couldn’t concentrate when Tony was looking at him as if he had just announced that there'd be no Christmas this year. He didn't like leaving Tony alone because of his emotional state, although right now he seemed to be okay. There was also the fact that Torres was still at large. Gibbs thought it was unlikely that Torres would come after Tony, but he wasn't about to take the chance. Tony needed a guard but there was no way he would ask either Ducky or Gerald to return to the house. Anyway, Tony would rebel at being assigned a babysitter. "Okay, I want you to take a taxi to the Navy Yard and wait for me there," Gibbs decided. "You've got enough cash on you?"

"Yeah, I've got money, but I don't want to hang around there all day with nothing to do," Tony protested. "I want to be with you. Can't you convince Agent Franks I should come along? I promise I'll stay in the car and–"

"No! I can't be thinking about you when I'm out in the field, Tony," Gibbs said sharply, and from the hurt expression on Tony's face he knew he'd said the wrong thing – or his words had been taken the wrong way. Not knowing what to say, and being out of time, Gibbs advanced on Tony, pressing him against the wall behind the door. Tony looked a little surprised when Gibbs slid his hand into his hair, cupped the back of his head, and leaned in to kiss him. For the first time since they'd met, Tony didn't return Gibbs' kiss; although he didn't push Gibbs away, he kept his lips pressed together and averted his eyes. Wondering what had brought that on, but not having the time to deal with it, Gibbs said impatiently, "Hell, it's hard enough doing the job, Tony, without having you on my mind."

Tony's eyes were fixed on Gibbs' chest when he said stiffly, "I can take care of myself. You go. You need to think of your job. That comes first."

"Hey. Look at me." Gibbs's hand slid down to clasp the side of Tony's neck, encouraging Tony to look up. " _Never_ think that you're not important to me. You are _very_ important to me, but with Torres still out there and you alone, I…" A car horn blasted from out in the driveway and Gibbs swore under his breath. He badly wanted to stay with Tony but knew it was impossible. "I don't want to leave you alone."

"You don't trust me to stay here alone?" asked Tony. He stared at Gibbs with his mouth set in a stubborn line.

"Of course I do. It's just that after this morning, I…you were so upset and…I don't think you should be alone," Gibbs said. "I need you to be safe. Understand?"

The sound of the car horn honking again made Tony jump. "You'd better go before Franks comes in here and hauls you out to the car." Tony gave Gibbs a small smile that didn't reach his eyes. "I'm fine on my own. I'll have lunch, watch some TV, wait for your call. You should go now."

Reluctantly, Gibbs stepped away. "I'll phone you as soon as we leave the scene. Let you know what's going on. We'll get to the airport in time, don't worry." His car, he realized, was still at the Navy Yard, and he was pretty sure he'd be able to drive.

"I'm not worried," Tony said with a smile that seemed a little more genuine than his last one. He handed Gibbs the gym bag and said, "Don't forget this. Eat something when you get a chance. And take care of your leg, which I can see is hurting you. Your arm, too. Don't overdo things. And get Ducky to look at it if it hurts, Jethro." Gibbs suppressed a smile and Tony grinned in response, somehow managing to appear sheepish and cocky at the same time. "Oh my God, next thing I'll be asking you to bring home some milk and a loaf of bread… _Honey_."

"Yes, _dear_ ," Gibbs replied, smiling. "If you need anything, and I mean _anything_ , you call me. Call Ducky if you can't get hold of me." He pulled out his cell phone and flipped it open. "His number is–"

Tony wrapped his fingers over Gibbs' hand. "I've got his number, and Gerald's, and even the director's. Oh, and find out about my Dad, will you? See if he's okay?"

"I will." Gibbs said sternly, one hand on the open front door, "Tony, lock this behind me and don't open it to–"

"Will you go already?" Gibbs stepped onto porch, but Tony called out, "Wait," grabbed Gibbs' sleeve, and hauled him back inside.

Gibbs asked, "What now?"

Tony said, "I forgot to give you this." He slung his arms around Gibbs and kissed him, his lips soft and apologetic. "You be careful," he mumbled into Gibbs' mouth.

Nodding, Gibbs tore himself away and hurried down the front steps, hearing the door being shut and locked behind him. He got into the back seat of the sedan, and when Pacci accelerated out of the driveway, Gibbs didn't spare a glance back at the house. He kept telling himself that Tony was in no danger, that he would be fine alone, and that he was worrying unnecessarily. As soon as he was finished with his work, he'd get his car and head back to pick up Tony. They should be able to make it to the airport in time. Tony would say goodbye to his dad and, hopefully, give him a piece of his mind, and together they'd watch Senior fly away, right out of their lives.

The only problem was that nothing Gibbs said to himself eased the ache he felt from leaving Tony behind. He sighed deeply and crossed his arms, watching the scenery pass by swiftly from the back seat of the car. Damn it, being in love was a lot of work, especially when his lover was Tony.

Mike Franks turned his head and asked, "Separation anxiety?"

With a glare at his boss, Gibbs rubbed his thigh and retorted, "Nope. Just had a twinge in my leg."

Franks turned away and remarked, "Huh, is that what they call it these days?"

***–*** end chapter 61 ***–***


	62. Investigation

When the NCIS agents got out of the car in front of the safe house, Franks sniffed the air and said, "Rocket propellant."

"Holy crap," said Pacci, in a combination of awe and horror at the sight of the ruins of what had once been a bungalow on a small fenced-in lot.

"No shit," agreed Gibbs as he grabbed the camera bag. "There goes the neighborhood." The house looked as though a bomb had been dropped upon it with most of the front blown away by the impact of the missile. The interior was a wet, still-smoking ruin, and the remains of the roof sagged precariously.

Franks led his agents past a horde of reporters and news cameras gathered in the street, and showed their badges to gain access to the scene. A reporter who wouldn't take no for an answer tried to follow the agents past the cordoned-off crime scene; he pushed a microphone in Franks' face, demanding to know what was going on, but a uniformed police officer hustled him back into the street.

A team of investigators was working around a white van riddled with bullet holes, parked askew in the driveway with its sliding door wide open. Walking up the drive, Gibbs caught sight of a dead body sprawled on the grass only a couple of feet from the vehicle. A tall privacy shield kept the curious onlookers out in the street from viewing the crime scene.

"That's Manny Parkes," Pacci said, looking faintly green at the sight of the deceased.

"Yup," said Franks. He nodded in the direction of what used to be the front door of the safe house, where a tall man with a badge stuck in his breast pocket was comparing notes with a fire inspector. "Gotta check in with the head Feeb."

Gibbs asked his boss, who was limping by his side, "You think the news people have any idea who the FBI was keeping on ice here?"

Franks said sourly, "No, but they'll probably figure it out just in time for the six o'clock news and let the whole damned world know our business." It was obvious that the media was a touchy subject with him. "There's always someone out there who's willing to open their yap for the right price. Let's hope these vultures don't figure out who the FBI's star witness is until he's out of DC and in the hands of the US Marshals."

Gibbs wondered what Agent Dickson's price had been, for he had no doubt that the FBI agent had turned traitor and had sold out his own people to the mob. Dickson had been present at the armory in Newark where two FBI agents had been killed, and at this safe house as well. Gibbs knew in his gut that the man was as guilty as hell. He had shared his suspicions with Mike Franks on the drive over, and had given him a run-down of everything Fornell had said. Franks had immediately called Director Morrow, who had said he'd call the director of the FBI to make damned sure that an investigation into Dickson was underway. Gibbs hoped they strung Dickson up by his balls, and that was just for starters. There was nothing worse than a dirty cop, especially one who caused fellow agents to be killed.

The FBI agent in charge of the scene, Agent Fontana, met them on the front lawn, which looked like a battle zone, strewn with debris from the ruined house. He stepped around some jagged bits of lumber and what might have once been an easy chair but now looked like a very large charcoal briquette, and shook Franks' hand. "Agent Fornell has gone back to headquarters, but he said I should let you folks look around," Fontana said in a soft southern accent. "Carte blanche," he added.

The NCIS agents took him at his word and wasted no time. They did a quick inspection of the scene, took their own photos and extracted whatever information they could from the FBI and ATF agents who were poking around in the smoldering ruins.

The FBI's own medical examiner had already supervised the removal of Agent McSweeney's remains and he was about to load Manny Parkes' body into the coroner's van. Agent Fontana asked the ME to give the NCIS agents a few minutes to check out Parkes before they wrapped him up.

Pacci gave a brief look at the body lying with arms akimbo on the front lawn, with the used missile launcher by his side. With a hand held to his stomach, he said, "I think I'll look over Parkes' van, Boss."

It was understandable why Pacci felt queasy. Fornell and his agents had fired a dozen rounds into Manny Parkes' body, causing considerable damage. There was blood everywhere and one shot had taken out half of his head. Franks, who had dealt with his share of bodies since his tour in Nam, didn't turn a hair at the gory mess, and Gibbs was able to control his instinctive reaction to step away. He turned off his emotions and instead looked over the scene with an investigator's eye.

Franks leaned over the body, one hand supporting his wounded leg, and asked Fontana about the contents of the shooter's pockets.

"Clean as a whistle. Not even a driver's license on him. Just this, on the passenger seat," said Fontana, holding up a bagged map. "Our forensic team is taking the van back to the crime lab. Maybe they'll get something useful out of it that'll lead us to Torres." He looked doubtful.

"Torres got down here from New York somehow. Didn't walk," Gibbs pointed out. He put on latex gloves and inspected the map, which had been neatly folded to show a large area of DC and its environs. Someone had circled several points on the map. There was a bulls-eye drawn on the safe house's location, and in different color ink, a circle around the Excelsior Grande Hotel, where Torres and Harding had planned to meet DiNozzo Sr. on Sunday night. "This is Torres' map," Gibbs said.

Franks looked over his shoulder and pointed to one of the locations circled on the map, just south of DC. "That's Antioch Airport. It's a private airfield owned and operated by the company who leases DiNozzo his jet."

Gibbs asked, "Didn't Torres' man, Azari, place a couple of calls to Antioch on his cell phone?"

"Yeah, he was checking on the flight plan. That was before, when they figured they were hitching a ride back to New York on Senior's Gulfstream."

Before their plans were shot to hell, thought Gibbs. There weren't many private airfields with runways long enough to accommodate a jet, and Gibbs had assumed that DiNozzo flew in and out of one of the major airports. At least Antioch Airport was convenient, maybe a half hour out of the city. "Is that where Senior's plane is now?"

Franks said, "Can't say off-hand. I know Antioch also flies their jets out of Dulles. As soon as we're done with this, I'll call Fornell and see which airport they're using."

Gibbs thought the FBI would be smart to change their plans, now they had evidence that Torres had inside information. He took photos of the map, the body, the M72 missile launcher that lay next to the body, and the unused missile lying in the back of the van. When he was done Gibbs stood there for a minute, looking around the neighborhood, wondering where the hell Torres was hiding out and what he intended to do with the other two missiles that had been stolen.

Agent Fontana said they were on the lookout for Parkes' vehicle, or anything with New York plates on it, but so far it hadn't been located. Franks, who made no bones that he thought pursuing that avenue was a waste of time, reminded Fontana to send NCIS copies of all their findings, said they'd do the same, and motioned to his men that they were leaving. With the acrid smell from the burnt house and the odor of the missile propellant still sharp in their nostrils and clinging to their clothes, the NCIS agents climbed into their car and headed back to the Navy Yard.

***–***

It was Pacci who said what they were all thinking, that Fornell and the other FBI agents had been damned lucky to get out of that house alive. DiNozzo Sr., too. If Agents Greene and Esposito hadn't been escorting Senior to the bathroom at the rear of the house when Manny Parkes launched that M72, they'd have all been incinerated on the spot. Agent McSweeney, unfortunately, had remained in the front room where they'd been playing poker, and so had been right in the line of fire. "Never had a chance," said Pacci, never taking his eyes off the road. "Poor guy."

Franks was muttering under his breath about the FBI's incompetence at letting their safe house be breached by Torres' man, asking how the hell had they let Torres slip through their fingers in the first place? Gibbs was smart enough to refrain from pointing out that NCIS hadn't been able to locate Torres, either. The last time anyone had seen him was on Sunday night, when Torres had told Senator Harding to pull the limousine over to the curb and had taken off on foot, disappearing into the night.

Someone must have given Torres a place to hole up in, though so far the fugitive had managed to keep his sorry ass under the radar. They had bolos out and every fed and local LEO was on the lookout for the New York mob boss. They'd find him eventually, but until they got Torres under lock and key, Gibbs wasn't going to rest easy. "If the FBI haven't forced Torres' whereabouts out of his men by now, then they either don't know where their boss is, or won't give him up," he said. For all their conservative appearance and straight talk, the FBI agents were known to be tough interrogators, and even Torres' lieutenant, Rick Azari, couldn't hold out long against a determined agent like Fornell.

Franks' phone rang and he spent a couple of minutes grunting into it. He hung up and turned to look at Gibbs, who was sitting behind Pacci with his injured right leg stretched out on the seat. "That was Morrow. The FBI has opened an investigation into Agent Dickson. He's suspended for the duration but he's still scheduled to go on the flight to New York later today. Hope they use thumbscrews on him," Franks muttered. He patted his pockets, located a pack of cigarettes and shook one out. "The flight has been moved up to eighteen-hundred and those jackasses are bound and determined to fly out of Antioch Airport."

"Sunset," Gibbs said to himself. He glanced at his watch and saw it was after two. He'd promised to get in touch with Tony but he didn't want to call him under his boss's watchful gaze.

Franks turned in his seat so he once again faced the front of the vehicle. "Better call the kid before he does something foolhardy, Probie." He lit his cigarette and chuckled as he lowered his window to let the smoke escape. "Won't do to keep Tony champing at the bit. I'll bet that boy gets into all sorts of trouble when he gets bored."

Pacci asked Gibbs, "Is Tony gonna join his dad? Fly to New York with him?"

"No," Gibbs said, abruptly. "He's breaking all ties with Senior." And, if he had anything to do with it, Tony would forget everything he'd ever known about his old man, and would be able to start his life afresh without any dark shadows hanging over him.

Franks said casually, "Tony'll have a better chance on his own, away from his old man."

"You don't think Torres would try to hit the kid?" Pacci asked Franks.

Gibbs stomach clenched at the thought of Tony being in danger from the mob. It wasn't as if he hadn't thought about the possibility that Torres might see Tony as a threat, as the young man knew about his father's illegal business deals, but hearing Pacci voice it aloud hit him hard. As soon as they got back to the Yard, he'd find an agent to drive over to Ducky's house and pick Tony up. Or maybe he could get away long enough to do it himself, otherwise he'd never be able to concentrate on work.

Franks took a drag on his cigarette and blew smoke out his nose. "Nah, I doubt Torres gives a rat's ass about DiNozzo's kid. Torres is hell-bent on killing Senior, though. And Senior is gonna be hiding out or on the run for the rest of his sorry life."

"Except Torres didn't fire the missile, Boss." Gibbs leaned forward and rested his forearm on the back of Franks' seat.

"True," Franks agreed. "He had Parkes do it for him. Dead is dead, no matter who pulls the trigger."

Gibbs said, "If I was planning on killing my enemy, there's no way I'd trust a wheel-man to do the job for me, even if he was my wife's brother-in-law."

Franks half turned Gibbs' way. "You think Torres was in the van when Parkes let loose with the M72?"

"If he was, as soon as the FBI started shooting at Parkes, he would have made a run for it. When they pulled up in that van, they didn't expect Fornell to already be outside and quick on the draw like that. Parkes was shot down almost as soon as he stepped out of the vehicle. He's lucky he even got a chance to fire that missile. But Torres, he never got an opportunity to fire his rocket." Gibbs thought about it for a moment and then said, "The M72 is pretty light and Torres could have run from the scene carrying it, but it's not exactly a small weapon. He would have had to carry the spare missile, too, maybe in some sort of case."

Pacci pointed out, "Except Agent Fontana said the neighbors didn't see anyone running from the scene. They were thorough in canvassing the houses in the area."

"Hard to miss a chump running down the street with a bazooka over his shoulder," Franks said with a snort. "Except…" He turned in his seat, enough to meet Gibbs' eyes and they both nodded at the same time.

Gibbs suggested, "What if Torres has his own set of wheels? Drove separately."

Franks said, "He could be toolin' around in the car Parkes drove here from New York. Would have changed the plates though. Pacci, work that angle as soon as we get back." He looked at Gibbs meaningfully. "Might be a good idea to bring that boy of yours into the Yard in the meantime, Probie."

Gibbs grunted, agreeing. Damn, he should have insisted that Tony go to the Navy Yard instead of allowing him to stay at Ducky's. He wondered if that's how it was going to be with their relationship, with him pushing Tony to do one thing, and Tony doing exactly what he wanted to in the end. Gibbs had been under the assumption that it was better to handle Tony with a soft touch but it struck him that maybe he should be a bit more forceful and stop pussyfooting around. Tony had said he wanted guidance, for Gibbs to take the lead, so that's what he was going to do from now on. No way was Tony going to coax and bargain to get whatever he wanted, especially if Gibbs determined it to be unhealthy or dangerous. Nope, he was going to put his foot down and Tony would have to learn to obey. Just thinking about an acquiescent Tony made Gibbs' cock harden. He adjusted himself and tried to find a more comfortable position, but it wasn't easy to tamp down his arousal.

Pacci looked at Gibbs in the rear-view mirror and said, "I'd say Tony Junior needs to be kept on a tight leash until Torres is behind bars." He teased, "You sure you're up to it, Gibbs? Those kids today are hard to keep under control. Bet he's a handful."

Gibbs said sharply, "Shut up about Tony, will you?"

Immediately Pacci said apologetically, "Hey, sorry, Gibbs. Didn't mean anything by it."

Gibbs shrugged it off even though a deep-seated anger forced its way to the surface, sudden and unexpected, like a sub doing an emergency blow and rising head first out of the ocean depths. His anger wasn't directed at Pacci – it was just that Gibbs felt the need to strike out at something. Shooting Torres would be good, though he wouldn't say no to getting the chance to beat up Senior, maybe wring his neck for creating this whole mess in the first place, Senior and his perverted buddy Harding. From out of nowhere, Gibbs flashed back to breaking Harding's neck with one hard twist of his head, the smell of blood and death intense and all too real. Beads of sweat trickled down his neck, his heart pounded a mile a minute and his hands shook so much he had to sit on them. God, he hated this, hated the way his mind and body reacted to some unknown trigger and he was reduced to a quivering mess. Gibbs stared blindly out the car window, afraid to look at his colleagues in the front seat for fear they'd seen him freaking out. When he eventually sent a furtive glance their way, they were busy talking sports and it didn't look like they'd even noticed.

After a while, when he felt a bit more under control, Gibbs pulled out his cell phone and placed a call to Tony.

***–***

It took so long for Tony to pick up that Gibbs was starting to get worried.

"Pronto? Chi parla?" Tony said, sounding breathless.

Tentatively, Gibbs asked, "Tony?"

"Oh, hey, Jethro."

"What's with the Italian?" Gibbs heard someone talking in the background. He sat up straight, frowning. "Who's that with you?"

It was a woman, her voice distant as if from another room. "Trasporti prego la mia valigia, il giovane."

"Be just a moment," Tony said, but Gibbs wasn't sure if Tony was talking to him or the woman.

"Tony?" When Tony didn't answer him, Gibbs said loudly, "Tony, you there?" Pacci looked up at the mirror again, so Gibbs glared at him and snapped, "You want to keep your eyes on the road?"

Pacci shook his head, bemused, but turned to Franks and started up a conversation about sports.

The background noises Gibbs was hearing over the phone disappeared with the closing of a door and Tony, whom Gibbs would swear was grinning from ear to ear, said, "Oh my God, Jethro! Have you ever met Ducky's mother? She keeps talking to me in Italian ever since I told her my name, and–"

"You're still at Ducky's," Gibbs said with relief.

"Yeah, I'm at Ducky's. Actually, right now I'm in the pantry, hiding out. Don't get me wrong, _Vittoria_ , I mean Mrs. Mallard, seems like a nice lady but–"

"But she's a bit off kilter?" Gibbs suggested with a smile.

"Ah, you've met her then. I said I'd carry her bags upstairs and now she wants me to move some furniture or something," he said with a laugh. "Wait a minute and let me make sure she's gone." After a moment Tony was back, from the acoustics, he was shut in the pantry once again. In a hushed voice, Tony said, "I think I'm safe in here for a little while. The Corgis were hunting me down earlier. I don't get it; they seem to like me."

Suddenly, Gibbs missed Tony, and he wanted to be with him, holding him close so badly he ached. He asked quietly, "You doing okay?"

"Oh, yeah. I'm okay. I was just hanging out on my own, and then Mrs. Mallard came home." A dog barked and Tony swore. "Shit, I think one of the dogs found me. Oh no, now the whole pack is outside the door…okay, false alarm, they've gone." Tony's tone grew serious when he asked, "What happened? Did you see my dad?"

Gibbs decided to keep the details to himself. No point in mentioning the dead body messing up the front lawn of the safe house, and their suspicions about Dickson being a traitorous snitch for the mob. "Your father has been taken to FBI headquarters. He's safe there, Tony."

"That's good, right? They didn't take him to the hospital so he must be okay. But what about you? You all right? How's your leg?"

Gibbs smiled into the phone, liking the way Tony was so concerned about his wellbeing. "I won't be running any marathons for a while, but it's not too bad."

Tony said, "Huh."

"What's that mean?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"I know you, that's all. You'd rather have one of Mrs. Mallard's little dogs carry off your leg than admit it's hurting. And what about your arm?"

"I'm not hurting," Gibbs said testily, wishing his damned thigh would stop throbbing. If Ducky were present he'd raise his eyebrows and dryly point out that there was a very good reason that he had been instructed to rest his leg. And Gibbs knew that if he weren't such a hard-ass he'd admit he had overdone it and was likely to suffer for it tomorrow. Okay, he was going to be stiff and in pain tomorrow. There, he'd admitted it. Shifting his weight in a vain attempt to get more comfortable, Gibbs wished he could take one of those pain pills that he'd left behind at Ducky's.

"I put your meds in your go-bag, Jethro," Tony said, apparently knowing what Gibbs was thinking.

"I'm fine," Gibbs said irritably, not entirely sure that he liked anyone knowing him so well.

"You're so damned stoic," Tony said, a hint of admiration in his voice.

"Stoic?" Gibbs almost laughed.

"Yeah, like your house."

"My _house_ is stoic?"

"Sure, it's enduring, weathers all adversity and keeps on standing. It's solid. Secure, too. It's a survivor, like you. You don't complain, Jethro."

"I complain sometimes," Gibbs insisted, being perverse. They were approaching security gates at the Navy Yard so he said, "Look, I might be tied up here for a while. We have to report to the director, and I need to go over the evidence that was collected from Harding's place." Tony didn't respond so Gibbs asked, "You okay there, Tony?"

"Yeah. I'm fine." There was a long silence and then Tony said quietly, "I'm suddenly feeling sort of…uh…I don't know..."

Gibbs sat up a bit, concerned. "You sick?"

"No, it's not that. I guess I'm having a hard time getting my head on straight, what with everything that's been going on. I don't know where I am in all of this, you know? Well, I know where I am _literally_ , standing in the dark in Ducky's pantry. I just don't…" His voice trailed off. Tony sighed and then said, so softly that Gibbs had a hard time hearing him, "It just hits me every now and then, that's all. And I…I miss you, real bad."

"Me, too," Gibbs said, wishing he could say more. Not liking that Tony sounded so down, Gibbs said, "I'm going to send someone to pick you up, bring you to the Navy Yard. I'll feel better if you're safe, near me."

Tony made a small sound that might have been a laugh. "I'm safe enough, Jethro. There's a pack of dogs roaming the halls, ready and willing to bite the ankles of any intruders, and Mrs. Mallard tells me she carries a knife." He lowered his voice and said, "Though I didn't ask her where she hides it." Before Gibbs could insist that Tony join him at NCIS, Tony said in a slightly wheedling tone, "I was thinking, Jethro, how about I go straight to the hotel and pack up Dad's and my things? It'll give me something to do and you can meet me there when you're finished at work."

Alarms went off in Gibbs' head and he almost shouted, "No!"

Tony continued, as if Gibbs' raised voice was perfectly normal, "By the time I get the packing done, you'll be ready to come and pick me up. How long will it take to get to the airport? I don't want to miss the chance to say good-bye to my dad, Jethro."

"I don't want you going anywhere alone, Tony," he said adamantly.

"I'll take a cab right to the door and I can get Mr. Carlton, the doorman, to go up with me, if that makes you feel better. Make sure there are no bogeymen or mob bosses hiding under the bed. Okay?"

Gibbs could just about see Tony rolling his eyes, and against all reason, he relented. "Oh, all right–"

"Good, I knew you'd see it my way," Tony exclaimed.

"Hold on there! You make sure Mr. Carlton stays with you until I get there, Tony."

"Sure."

"I mean it," Gibbs said sternly. "And you phone me as soon as you get to the hotel."

"I said _okay_ , Jethro," Tony said, sounding peeved. "I don't know why you're being so grumpy, unless it's because you haven't taken your pain medication. See, I'm talking things out with you, just like I said I would."

"All right then," Gibbs conceded, kicking himself for letting Tony get his own way once again.

"All right." Tony paused and then said in a low, husky voice, "Damn, I miss you. Can't wait for us to be together, all alone. I'm going to rip your clothes off and get down on my knees and take your long, hard dick in my mouth and I'm going to suck–"

"Jesus, Tony," Gibbs gasped.

Tony laughed and they said quick good-byes just as Pacci pulled the sedan into a parking space near the entrance to the NCIS headquarters.

***–***

As soon as the elevator doors opened, Pacci headed for the break room to get something to eat. Mike Franks remained in the elevator and pushed the button for the top floor, where the executive offices were located, to take a meeting with Director Morrow.

Gibbs was surprised to find Stan Burley working alone in the bullpen. "Where's Jenny?"

"Someone sent her to collect some equipment," Burley said absently, putting a pile of files on Gibbs' desk. "Here's the evidence; lists and photos and the preliminary lab reports."

"Great." Gibbs sat down with his sore leg propped up on a nearby chair.

Burley said that the forensic lab techs had matched up the items Harding had kept as souveniers with NCIS's list of missing Navy and Marine personnel. "They're fine-tuning some of the details of their report now, but this list is comprehensive," Burley said as he handed Gibbs a printout and a thick file of photographs. "They found evidence that Harding came in contact with, and presumably murdered, twenty-five men in the past ten years. His rate appears to have accelerated because eight of those men went missing within the last twelve months alone."

After going over the evidence, and checking back and forth, Gibbs looked up at Burley, puzzled. "Is this everything?"

"Uh, yeah. Why, is something missing?"

Gibbs eyed the list of all of the items the NCIS and FBI agents had bagged and tagged. "Not sure."

"Senator Harding kept meticulous records," Burley said, unsure of where Gibbs saw a problem. "He kept a log book that listed of every item he took from his victims, and photos, and everything matched up, according to Chen. The forensics team worked fast, as the director requested, but they were very thorough–"

Gibbs stood abruptly, ignoring the pain that shot through his thigh at the sudden movement. "Going down to the lab," he said, ignoring the way Burley stared at him as he limped towards the elevator.

***–***

Chen was adamant. "I assure you, I did not make a mistake, nor did any of my people. I can only work with what you give me, Gibbs, and I'll say it again: there is no evidence in hand that can be tied, in any manner or form, to Seaman Carl Jacobs." He said, obviously affronted, "You bring me any forensic evidence at all, and I will determine everything I can about its origin and history, but what I cannot do is change the facts to suit your investigation."

"I didn't mean to suggest that, Chen," Gibbs replied, knowing he'd crossed a line.

Chen nodded. "I understand it is very difficult for you, not finding the confirmation that Seaman Jacobs is among the many victims, but perhaps this is a good thing?" Gibbs raised his eyebrows in question and Chen gave him an encouraging smile. "Have you considered that perhaps this young man is out there somewhere, enjoying his life?"

"I was so sure…" Gibbs shook his head, having a hard time believing that Seaman Jacobs had not been raped, tortured, and murdered by Senator Harding. He'd been thinking of Jacobs as a victim all this time, and he'd been busy pursuing the young man's killer, determined to bring some kind of closure to Jacob's parents even if his body was never recovered. Gibbs realized that he had never thought of Jacobs as being anything but dead. "I think…I think I made a stupid mistake," he admitted.

"Success in the end erases all the mistakes along the way," Chen said with a knowing smile.

Tony and the other witnesses had said that Senator Harding's man, Briggs, had bought Jacobs a couple of drinks. According to Briggs' MO, he would have slipped a sedative in his intended victim's drink. "Tony said…" Gibbs thought back. "Tony said that they had drinks at the bar and that Jacobs left…" Gibbs' head shot up and he said, "Jacobs left the room alone. I thought…I _presumed_ that Briggs followed him and got Jacobs into the car waiting out front. Seaman Jacobs was victim number twelve. God, he might still be alive," he said under his breath.

Pulling out his cell phone, Gibbs dialed Fornell. "It's Gibbs. I need Briggs' statement," he said with no preamble. "Don't give me a hard time, Fornell. Yeah, you're a bastard too, but can you just give me some information? Okay, I want to know what Briggs said about the night of DiNozzo's party in New York. He was seen drinking with a young seaman… Yes, Seaman Carl Jacobs. August 15th. Yes, it's important, damn it. I'll wait."

Gibbs paced the lab while Chen went back to work, but the ache in his leg made him take a seat. Just as Gibbs was about to give up and return to the bullpen, Fornell came back on the line.

Fornell said, "Okay. August 15th, DiNozzo's party. Briggs admitted that he picked up a young sailor named Dwayne Rogers, delivered him to his boss that night. Briggs is still swearing on a stack of Bibles he had no idea what Senator Harding was doing with the young men he procured for him. Says he thought they were dates," said Fornell, in disgust. "When we asked him about Seaman Jacobs, he denied knowing him."

"He really did go AWOL," Gibbs said, relieved, still not quite believing it.

"Who? Seaman Jacobs?"

"Yeah, Tony was right," Gibbs said with a breath of a laugh. "He told me that he thought that Jacobs had found himself an older guy, a sugar daddy."

Fornell laughed loudly at that. "Someone had the right idea then."

"Guess so," said Gibbs, planning how to track down Jacobs, who was now a deserter and not necessarily another one of Harding's victims. He needed to see him face to face.

Fornell's voice broke into his thoughts. "Hey, Gibbs."

"Yeah?"

"Are we okay?"

"Sure," Gibbs replied.

"I didn't want to keep you in the dark about Senior and our plans for him. I couldn't…Hell, you know how it is."

Gibbs said angrily, "You should have told me earlier that bastard wanted Tony to go into witness protection with him, Tobias."

"C'mon, my hands were tied," Fornell said apologetically.

"Yeah, I know how that is," Gibbs agreed. "See you at sunset, right?"

"Sunset?"

"Yeah, Tony and I will be there to say good riddance to DiNozzo Sr. And you tell him he'd better not say anything to his son about joining him or I'm going to take matters into my own hands. Understand?"

"I already told him, but I'll warn him again," Fornell said wearily.

"You make sure he understands I'm serious," said Gibbs and then he hung up. To himself he said, "Deadly serious."

Before he left the lab, Chen called Gibbs over to a large-screen TV. "Just want you to tell Special Agent Franks that I couldn't clean up these video tapes. They're too old and damaged."

"You afraid to tell him yourself?"

"Yes."

Gibbs chuckled and then turned his attention to the stack of four unmarked tapes. "Those from Harding's house?"

"Agent Pacci recovered them from the Rock Creek mansion," Chen said.

"Is there anything on them?"

"Two male adults engaged in sexual activity," Chen said, sticking a cassette in a VCR. "They're too grainy to make out their identities, and the tapes were not marked."

"How old are they?"

"This particular manufacturer made these tapes in the early 70s and they were unstable at best," Chen said with disdain. "They're useless, I'm afraid."

Gibbs only had to watch a couple of minutes of the tape to determine that he was watching Senator Kingston Harding whipping a man tied to a large cross. It was, indeed, very hard to make out any detail, but Gibbs knew, without a doubt, the identity of the man being whipped. He looked at the stack of tapes recovered from Harding's house, and said, "I need a favor, Chen."

***–***end chapter 62 ***–***


	63. Confessions

Franks stood in front of Gibbs' desk with his arms crossed and his expression stern. "That's the order, and it comes from the top."

"I don't have time for this crap," Gibbs said, slamming his desk drawer shut and standing to face Franks. "Damn it!"

Taking his agent's temper in stride, Franks said, "I hear you, Probie. Just suck it up and get it over with. You'll be done in forty-five minutes and then you can take the kid to the airport."

How the hell he was going to fit everything in, Gibbs didn't know. "What about the investigation into Seaman Jacobs? I need to call the New York office and–"

"I've already put Pacci on the job. He knows the case as well as you do." Franks gave Gibbs a stern look. "Stop wastin' time." He looked at the stack of four videotapes sitting on Gibbs' desk. "Is this something I should know about?"

"Nope," said Gibbs, fervently hoping his boss didn't push for details.

Franks squinted at him, like he was measuring him up, but all he said was, "Huh," and let it go.

Gibbs quickly changed the subject. "What did Director Morrow say about Torres and our findings at the safe house? We still working with the FBI to locate him? Torres is running around out there with–"

Franks said firmly, "I phoned Fornell from the director's office. They're not changing the flight; still going out of Antioch Airport. They're keeping a sharp eye out in case Torres makes another attempt on DiNozzo Sr.'s life but Fornell assures me their security is extra tight. That means that we are now gonna leave Torres to the Feebs, and concentrate on wrapping up the mess Senator Harding left behind. _That_ is this agency's priority."

Gibbs interrupted, "Boss–"

"It's out of our hands, Probie," Franks cautioned in a tone that made it clear that Gibbs shouldn't push him. "Tomorrow morning casualty notification officers are going to begin notifying all the victims' families, so we need to make sure all the Ts are crossed and the Is are dotted in our reports. I'm going to work with Burley on that right now and as soon as Shepard gets back from wherever the hell she's gone, I'll put her on it, too." He poked Gibbs in the chest with a finger and ordered, "Now get your ass in gear. Sooner you get this over with, the sooner I can cut you loose."

***–***

Before he went down to the shrink's office, Gibbs went in search of a quiet spot to conduct a phone call. There was a secluded spot just around the corner from the big staircase, just what he needed for a little privacy.

Tony must have been waiting because he answered the phone on the first ring. "Jethro," he said, sounding relieved.

Immediately on alert, Gibbs asked, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Well, not really _nothing_. Just–"

"Tony," Gibbs said sharply to get his attention. "Are you all right?"

"I'm all right. I miss you, is all," Tony said, sounding down. "I just finished packing and it seems sort of…final, you know? I can't believe Dad accumulated so much stuff. There are enough suits here to start his own clothing store."

"Is the doorman with you?" Gibbs would have arranged for a couple of armed soldiers to guard Tony, if he'd had his way. Overkill, maybe, but better safe than sorry.

"Oh yeah, Mr. Carlton is watching TV in the other room," Tony said offhandedly. "Are you coming soon?"

Gibbs hesitated before he said, "I have to see someone first. It's a mandatory appointment."

"Oh," said Tony, sounding disappointed. And then Gibbs' words must have registered because he said,  "Oh, they're making you go to a _shrink_."

How had Tony figured that out? "Won't be the first time," Gibbs admitted.

"Mmm. Confession without absolution," Tony said meaningfully. "Better watch what you say. And you'd better be careful of what you _don't_ say, too. Shrinks can be really tricky, you know."

Gibbs snorted. "You're saying this from experience?"

"Oh yeah. I'll tell you about it sometime. We can compare notes. So when…?"

"As soon as I'm done. Maybe in an hour," he said, hoping that was accurate. "I'm trying to get out of here, Tony."

"I know, but if I don't get to see my dad before they take off, I may never get the chance again," Tony said, sounding agitated.

Gibbs could picture Tony jumping from foot to foot, so he assured him, "I said I'd get you there, Tony."

"Okay," Tony said trustingly. "And thanks."

"What for?"

"For doing this. I know you hate my father and I get it, I really do, but he's my dad and…"

"It's okay, Tony," said Gibbs, even though it really wasn't. He felt like dragging his feet so Senior would be long gone by the time they arrived at the airport, but he wouldn’t do that to Tony. "I'll be there as soon as I can. And tell Carlton to get up off his ass or he'll be hearing from me."

Tony laughed. "C'mon, Jethro, chill out. You're seeing danger lurking in every shadow."

"For a good reason."

"And what's that?"

"'Cause I…care about you," Gibbs said, keeping his voice low, cupping his hand over the mouthpiece of his phone and keeping an eye out for anyone with big ears.

"You mean because you love me," Tony teased.

"I…care," Gibbs allowed.

"Love."

"Yeah, right. That's it."

Tony laughed. "Okay, I'll let you off the hook, but only until you get here, and then I expect to hear the words."

"Soon, Tony. Soon."

***–***

"Well that was a damned waste of time," Gibbs complained as he limped back into the bullpen after spending almost an hour with Dr. Tracy, the psychiatrist who had been assigned his case. "Last thing I needed was some head jockey going on about emotional wounds and bullshit, just because I took out the enemy. She ordered me to come back for three more sessions, Boss." God, he hoped that didn't sound like he was whining, even if he was.

Franks smirked. "Well, well. Doc Tracy must really like you, Probie. She usually makes do with one session." He held out his hand. "You got some paperwork for me?"

Gibbs handed over an envelope Dr. Tracy had been given to deliver to Franks. "She wants me back on Monday," he said irritably. It wasn't that he minded having the next few days off, as it meant he'd be able to spend plenty of time with Tony, but it was the principle of the thing. Being forcibly grounded went against the grain.

Giving the doc's orders a cursory glance, Franks said, "Look, you know the routine: until she signs the eval paper, your ass stays behind your desk." Before Gibbs could say anything, Franks ordered, "Take the days off that are comin' your way. Come back and see the doc, and by the time she's done with you, that leg of yours will be healed up and we'll be back in business."

Gibbs crossed his arms, flinching when he accidentally put pressure on his injured forearm. "And how many sessions did she require _you_ to take?"

"None of your business, Probie. Doc Tracy and me have what you might call an understanding," Franks said with a self-satisfied grin. From behind them came a noise that sounded suspiciously like a snort. Franks turned quickly to scowl at Burley, who had been shamelessly listening in. "Wipe that smile off your face, Burley. And where the hell is Jenny?"

Pacci joined them and dumped an armful of file folders on his desk. "She went to pick up some equipment the tech guys left behind, a camera with a time stamp, I believe it was, so she could finish her report. Here're the copies of the FBI's reports."

"Left behind at the Excelsior Hotel?" Gibbs asked, wondering if she was likely to encounter Tony, and feeling a spike of envy – or was it jealousy?

"Yes, she went to the hotel after lunch. She should be back soon," Stan said, looking at the clock with a small frown.

"Tech guys should have done their own dirty work. Call her back here. We've got a boatload of papers to get through." Franks went to his desk and dropped heavily into his chair, grumbling about probie agents who thought they could do whatever the hell they wanted to on company time.

From the taut lines around Franks' mouth, Gibbs knew his boss's leg was hurting, probably as much as his own. "How about you? You taking any days off, Boss?" Gibbs asked, knowing he was likely to get his head bitten off for asking.

Franks groused a bit but begrudgingly said, "Might go fishing with my son, make the most of our time before he's deployed."

Pacci looked up and said, "That sounds real nice, Boss."

Franks opened up one of the FBI's folders then glanced up at Gibbs, as if surprised to find him still standing there. "What're you hangin' around for? Told you that you can go. You stick around any longer and I'm likely to change my mind…"

"Going, Boss," said Gibbs. He stuck the videotapes that Chen had given him in his knapsack and headed for the elevator, conveniently forgetting to leave his gun and badge behind.

***–***

Gibbs decided to drive his own truck, which had been sitting in the NCIS parking lot since Sunday, when he'd brought Tony into NCIS at Franks' request. It seemed like a lifetime ago. The elevator bypassed the ground floor for some reason and opened at the lower level, where Autopsy was located.

Gibbs was pressing the button for the ground floor repeatedly and swearing at the damned elevator when Ducky called, "Hold the lift, please," and slipped in just as the doors started to slide closed.

"Hey, Ducky," said Gibbs. "Goin' up?"

"Actually, I was hoping for a brief word with you, Jethro. If you have a moment."

From the look in Ducky's eye, this was going to be a serious conversation, and a long one, too. Hoping to put him off, Gibbs said, "I'm on my way out."

"This won't take long. I'll walk out with you," Ducky said. He gave Gibbs a cursory assessment and made a small sound of disapproval. "I heard you were in the building and, frankly, I was quite surprised. Your instructions were to stay off that leg. You could suffer any one of several setbacks, such as a severe strain, or even a ruptured vein, which would require surgery, and then you would be confined to bed for a week at minimum–"

"All right, Ducky! I know." Gibbs sighed and explained that he had planned to rest, but he'd been ordered to accompany Franks and Pacci to the site of the safe house. "And now I'm leaving."

"You left Anthony alone?"

Ducky's tone suggested that Gibbs had done the wrong thing, and that got Gibbs' back up. "Well, yeah. I trusted he'd be okay on his own for a while at your house. He was fine, Ducky." But Ducky was looking questioningly at Gibbs over the top of his glasses, so Gibbs breathed out and said, "He _was_ okay when I talked to him an hour ago…even though he had a kind of meltdown after you left this morning."

"A kind of…meltdown?" Ducky asked, as if the word was foreign, and somewhat distasteful, to him.

"I found Tony listening to the audio of the raid on Harding's house," said Gibbs, feeling guilty for leaving the tape out in the first place. "He sort of freaked out."

Ducky tutted and said, "Ah, yes. Hmmm. I heard about that."

Gibbs stared at his colleague. "What? How d'you know about it?"

The elevator door opened on the ground level and they walked out of the building together. As they headed towards the parking lot, Ducky explained, "I phoned the house to let you know that Mother was on her way home a little early. Anthony answered the telephone and informed me that you had already left, that you had been conscripted. We had a little chat. At first he seemed to be doing quite well, and then he admitted that he had listened to the FBI's audio tape."

Gibbs ran a hand over his mouth and said, "Yeah. He heard everything that went down in the limo, and afterwards, all the…the things that Harding did to him and the other kid. All the stuff he didn't remember."

"Yes, I'm afraid that Anthony was quite distressed at being unable to recall the events of that night," Ducky said, shaking his head.

Distressed, Ducky had said. Gibbs could only nod, his chest tight, picturing Tony crying into the phone when he told Ducky what he'd learned.

Ducky watched Gibbs carefully when he revealed, "Anthony was also upset because his father knew full well what a monster the senator was, and yet he did nothing about it." Ducky hesitated, considering his words, then said, "Anthony voiced concerns that he might not have the courage to face his father, even though he wants, quite desperately, to tell him what he thinks of him."

Gibbs stopped next to his truck and pulled out his keys. "He doesn't have to face his dad," he said, exasperated that Tony couldn't just let the damn thing go.

"Ah, but he _does_. You see, Anthony believes that he cannot begin his life with you if he doesn't have a clean slate."

Gibbs felt color rising to his cheeks. He wondered if he'd ever get used to people talking about he and Tony as a couple. Of course Ducky knew about them, and seemed to be all right with their relationship despite the disparity in their ages. Somehow, Gibbs had expected to get a lecture or two, though so far none had yet materialized. He wasn't stupid though; they were sure to encounter homophobia and the problems and pain that accompanied such blind hatred at some point. They'd deal with it when it happened, he figured. No sense in looking for trouble.

"You telling me that if he doesn't confront his dad, he won't…what? Won't want to be with me? That's crazy. Nobody has a clean slate, Ducky." Gibbs fleetingly thought about his own baggage.

"Anthony cares for you, Jethro, a great deal, and he needs to ensure that his father never comes between the two of you in the future. Think of it as a cleansing ritual, a way to eradicate the old before he can move on to the new." At Gibbs' raised eyebrows, Ducky explained further. "Anthony needs to face his abuser, to hold him accountable. He stood by you when Senator Harding attacked you, even going so far as to stab the man, and now he needs to confront his father. It takes a lot of courage to do so, especially as this is his father, a man who has, as I understand it, dominated his son's every action for years."

Gibbs ground his teeth in frustration. "I don't want Tony to talk to his dad. It's a big mistake. If I know that asshole, he's gonna try to convince Tony to go with him to New York, Duck, and into the witness program. I don't know if it's about money or power, or if DiNozzo is doing this just because he _can_ , but one thing I do know – I will _not_ let him take Tony from me."

Ducky frowned and moved a step closer. "You believe that Anthony would accompany his father if Mr. DiNozzo requests he accompany him? Even if he doesn't wish to go?"

Gibbs scoffed, "DiNozzo won't _request_ anything, Ducky. He'll order Tony to get on board that jet with him, and I'm…I'm afraid that Tony will do as his dad says because that's what he's always done. Tony follows his dad's orders, or suffers the consequences. DiNozzo's a manipulative bastard; you know that." Gibbs raked his fingers through his hair, hating the thought that Tony could be so influenced by his father. "Damn it!"

"I think you're selling Anthony short. He takes strength from simply knowing you're in his corner, that you care for him."

Gibbs leaned against his truck and asked, "You really think that if Tony can't deal with his old man, he won't be able to come home with me? He'll give up on us because of the shit those men have been doing to him for years?"

"It is a possibility," Ducky said cautiously. "I believe Anthony feels he is damaged, perhaps even thinks that he is not worthy of your affection."

Gibbs closed his eyes and shook his head. Tony was wrong; they hadn't damaged his soul, his heart, no matter what he thought about himself. How could Tony not know that he loved him just the way he was? "He doesn't need to prove anything. And I don't give a shit about his past. I don't," Gibbs choked out. He looked up to find Ducky eyeing him with sympathy. "I don't get this, Ducky, and I sure as hell don't agree with it but if Tony wants to give his dad an earful, if it'll make him feel good, put things right in some way, then I'll be there to support him," Gibbs vowed. "Hell, I have to go or I'll never make it on time," he said, getting into his pickup truck.

"You're taking Anthony to the airport then," Ducky said with a nod. "I'm sorry to have detained you. It's quite a drive to my house."

"No, I'm going to the hotel. He went ahead to pack," Gibbs explained.

"Alone? Are you sure that was a wise move, Jethro?"

"I couldn't exactly hold him back, Ducky. He wanted to go, so he went. Has to figure out things for himself," Gibbs said defensively.

Ducky said, "Hmm."

"What's that mean?"

"Oh, I was simply wondering if Anthony is quite ready to be released into the wild, as it were," Ducky said with a small smile.

"I can't tie him down, Duck. Can't protect him from all the shit that goes on out there," Gibbs said, almost desperately. "Believe me, if I could…"

"No, of course you can't, my friend, but he may need a firm hand at times."

"If I put my foot down, order Tony around, then I'm no better than they are. We agreed to talk things over, and he said he wanted to go ahead to the hotel."

"Ah, so you gave in," Ducky said with a nod.

Gibbs' temper flared a bit. "Well, what the hell was I supposed to do? Tie him up so I could keep him safe? How the hell long would our relationship last if I did that?"

"Then you must accept that Anthony is, indeed, man enough to make his own decisions, whether you agree with them or not," Ducky said wisely.

Gibbs nodded reluctantly, not liking that he was being pulled in two directions. "Yeah. Easier said than done." He pulled the door to the truck closed, rolled down the window and started her up.

"Anthony needs your strength, your guidance, Jethro, now more than ever. He values your word; perhaps that will be enough. I would suggest treading carefully though, because Anthony is quite likely to go off on his own just to prove he _can_ make his own decisions." Ducky gave Gibbs a confident smile. "You will do fine, and so will he."

***–*** end chapter 63 ***–***


	64. Flying

Pressing the little buttons on his cell phone while driving through heavy DC traffic was not an easy task. After messing up a couple of times, Gibbs remembered that he had Tony's number on speed dial. It was with a sense of accomplishment that he hit the right buttons but the good feeling didn't last long; Tony didn't pick up and all he got was an automated voice telling him to leave a message.

"Tony, I'm on my way to the hotel. I'll be there in twenty. Don’t come down, I'll come up to the room." Gibbs hesitated and then demanded, "Why the hell aren't you picking up, DiNozzo? Um…miss you." He hung up, muttering, "Damn machines."

***–***

Gibbs was halfway across the lobby of the Excelsior Hotel when a uniformed doorman came out from behind the desk and hurried over to meet him. "Agent Gibbs? I'm Mr. Carlton."

"You were supposed to stay with Tony," Gibbs said curtly, making it clear he didn't have time for the man. He headed for the bank of elevators at as fast a pace as his leg would allow, with the doorman trailing after him.

"Sir? I was. Was with him, I mean, but I've got a message for you." Mr. Carlton caught up with Gibbs and said, with a sense of urgency, "Tony asked me to tell you, he's gone to the airport."

Gibbs stopped in his tracks. "He _what_?"

"He was concerned about getting there in time to meet Mr. DiNozzo, his dad," Carlton said, his tone making it obvious that he thought that Gibbs had let Tony down.

"Did Tony take a cab?" Gibbs demanded as he changed course and made for the front doors.

Carlton called after him, "No, that nice lady gave him a ride. The pretty redhead?"

 _Jenny?_ Gibbs ran for his truck, revved the engine and peeled away from the curb, narrowly missing a slow-moving car. All he could think of was how he was going to kill Tony when he caught up to him – or Jenny, if he encountered her first.

***–***

Gibbs tried calling Tony again but got the same voice telling him to leave a message. He tried Jenny's number and got a busy signal. He hung up and banged the heel of his hand against the steering wheel. "Fuck!" A short time later, speeding along on the road towards Antioch Airport, Gibbs' phone rang. He snapped it open and asked hopefully, "Tony?"

"No, it's Fornell."

"You at the airport? Tony's heading your way," Gibbs told the FBI agent.

"Yeah, I got word from the security at the gate he just came through, along with Agent Shepard. I've got DiNozzo Sr. here sipping a cocktail, not a care in the world," Fornell said with a derisive laugh.

"Look, Fornell, keep Tony away from his father. I'll be there in a few minutes."

"Keep him away?" Fornell laughed. "What do you want me to do? Handcuff the kid to the check-in counter?"

"Well, _yeah_ , Tobias. Put him under arrest or something, just 'til I get there." Peering through his side window, Gibbs watched a small jet taking off from a runway parallel to the road he was driving on. In the distance he could make out Antioch Airport's small terminal, along with a couple of large hangars and a control tower. He'd never been to the airport before, but he'd read the specs and Antioch was the only private airport in the area that boasted runways long enough for small jets.

Fornell was saying over the phone, "Your boy just walked in, all spiffed up. It looks like the redhead is handling him just fine."

"Hey, I do _not_ want her handling Tony," Gibbs protested, wondering what the hell Fornell meant by Tony being spiffed up. He took a sharp left onto the airport road, tires squealing, and pulled up behind another car at the guardhouse. There was a metal arm lowered across the entrance to control vehicle access and the whole airfield was surrounded by a tall, heavy-duty chain link fence. It wouldn't be easy to gain access to the airport, but it certainly wasn't impossible. While he waited for the security guard to allow the car ahead to proceed, Gibbs scoped out the airfield, which was flat and open except for some scrubby vegetation along the fence line. The only trouble spot he could see was a hillside close to the terminal, a heavy stand of trees and undergrowth that could offer protection to anyone approaching from that direction. A bigger problem was that it was getting on for six o'clock and daylight was fading fast. 

Gibbs showed his credentials to the security guard on duty while he asked Fornell, "You got enough men covering this, Fornell?"

Fornell assured him, "I've got a dozen agents patrolling the grounds, plus airport security is on alert." He went on to complain that his FBI supervisor wanted to use DiNozzo's jet so they didn't have to pay for the flight. "They're taking their own sweet time getting it ready, though."

"Hey Tobias, have you thought that maybe it isn't DiNozzo that Torres is aiming for?"

That stopped Fornell for all of two seconds before he demanded of Gibbs, " _What?_ "

"You've been dogging Torres for months now and I'll bet he hates you as much as he hates Senior. Hell, probably more, considering you're likely to shoot him on sight. I mean, you annoy the shit out of _me_ , and we're on the same side. Just saying…" Gibbs snapped his phone shut with a smile.

The security guard gave Gibbs the okay to proceed, and he was soon pulling into the lot and looking for a parking space. The NCIS sedan that Jenny had been driving was easy to spot and so was an unmarked FBI van. Gibbs parked his truck as close to the entrance as he could, got out and limped towards the terminal, his knapsack over his shoulder. With every step he took there was sharp jab of pain in his thigh, just as though someone was repeatedly knifing him. It was not only distracting but was fast becoming hard to ignore. He hoped that his leg would bear his weight long enough for him to retrieve Tony and get the hell out of there, to safety. _Then_ he was going to have a long talk with him.

Gibbs pushed through the glass entryway, past the watchful eyes of an FBI agent and a couple of unarmed security guards. He nodded at them and stopped for a moment to get his bearings. He spotted Fornell up on the mezzanine, wearing a radio headset and a determined expression. The FBI agent raised a hand in greeting but Gibbs ignored him.

Antioch's terminal was compact but had all the amenities their wealthy clients expected, including private waiting lounges and an ornate mahogany bar that looked as though it came straight out of 'Casablanca'.

Gibbs could see the extra-long runways stretching off into the distance through the floor-to-ceiling plate glass windows on the other side of the lobby. There were a couple of planes being readied off to one side, including a sleek jet that was being checked over by a ground crew. That had to be the Gulfstream DiNozzo leased, and from where Gibbs stood it looked huge.

As with most smaller airports, passengers had to walk across the open tarmac in order to board their plane, and you didn't have to be skilled in risk assessment to see that such exposure created a major security risk. Senior, and any passengers boarding his jet, would be vulnerable for several minutes, and if Alonzo Torres was out there with his shoulder-held missile launcher, which Gibbs believed he was, they'd be a sitting duck. Hell, all Torres had to do was shoot a missile into a fueled-up jet. It would create an intense fireball that would take out the whole terminal – and everyone in it. Not a happy thought.

Gibbs turned his attention to Tony, who was talking to his father at this end of the long bar. Although Tony had only been there for a few minutes, he was already getting into it with his dad. Even from across the lobby it was apparent that the father-and-son conversation was not going well. Tony was holding his own so far and it looked like they might need a referee, Gibbs thought, with a grin.

It turned out that the FBI agent who was assigned to watch over DiNozzo Sr. was none other than Agent Greene. He was keeping his distance, watching the people in the terminal with suspicion, no matter that they all seemed to be passengers and airline employees going about their business. When Gibbs stepped forward Greene recognized him and gave a small nod.

At the far end of the bar a handful of people waiting for their flights were studiously minding their own business even though the DiNozzos' discussion was getting a bit loud. There was some seating near the windows, and Gibbs saw that the FBI agent who'd given them a hard time, Dickson, was sitting between two armed agents. Dickson leaned forward to pick up his drink from a low table and Gibbs caught sight of a pair of handcuffs shackling his wrists. Dickson looked up at that moment, and Gibbs couldn’t help smirking at him. Dickson gave him the finger in reply.

Jenny Shepard was standing about ten feet away from the DiNozzo father and son, watching them squabbling with a rapt look on her face. Gibbs paused at her side long enough to tell her tersely, "Go out on the tarmac and keep an eye out for Torres. And keep away from the jet."

She was startled but did as Gibbs ordered with a simple, "Sure."

As soon as Gibbs moved closer with the intention of letting Tony know he was there, Fornell hurried down the stairs and angled across the lobby to cut him off. "How about letting them have their father-son talk in private, huh, Gibbs?"

"Get out of my way, Fornell," Gibbs growled.

"Do not mess with me," Fornell warned. "Senior is going to board that jet, no matter what, understand?"

"I don't give a shit about him," Gibbs retorted. "I just want Tony out of here before Torres figures out how easy it would be to take this whole place out with one shot." He brushed past Fornell, but then turned back, asking angrily, "What the _hell_ were you guys thinking, using this airport when you knew it was compromised?"

"I tried, Gibbs. My director wouldn’t change the orders. What do you expect me to do, countermand them?"

Gibbs shook his head even though he understood Fornell's frustration. "I expect you to have the sense to duck when someone yells, 'incoming,' Fornell."

Fornell looked as though he was about to reply when he got a call over his radio. He spoke into his comm to say he was on his way. "Another damned delay," he said shortly to Gibbs, then turned on his heel and strode across the terminal and out onto the tarmac.

Gibbs watched Fornell only long enough to ascertain he was talking to one of the ground crew, and then he zeroed in on Tony.

Tony was engaged in a heated conversation with his father and it was getting louder by the minute. They both looked as though they'd been in a bar brawl, with bruises marring their faces. Senior had butterfly bandages stuck to his eyebrow and his cheek, souveniers from flying glass from the attack on the safe house that morning.

"For God's sake, Junior, he wasn't going to hurt you–"

"Are you kidding me? You don't remember what he did to me at the beach house, Dad? I guess you're getting old enough you can blame senility for your sudden memory loss," Tony said sarcastically.

"Don't use that tone with me, young man," Senior ordered.

Gibbs moved close enough to observe his young lover without interfering. Tony stood with one hand on the bar, seemingly confident and at ease to the casual viewer. But from the set of Tony's shoulders and the way he held his head, Gibbs knew it was taking a lot of effort to hold himself together.

Senior's face was flushed and he didn't bother to hide his aggravation, but so far he was keeping his temper in check and his hands to himself. He must have felt Gibbs' eyes upon him because he looked around warily and then spotted the NCIS agent, Senior's eyes narrowed. He was clearly unhappy that Gibbs was there, but not surprised. Of course he should know by now that Gibbs wasn't going to let go of Tony so easily.

Tony turned to see what had caused his father to react, and his eyes widened and he smiled as soon as he saw Gibbs.

He'd changed into a suit – and not any suit from the looks of it. It was, even to Gibbs' untrained eye, designer all the way, a well-tailored gray jacket and slim pants that accentuated Tony's height and long legs, worn with a crisp white shirt and thin maroon tie. Even though he couldn’t see them, Gibbs somehow knew that Tony was wearing a set of expensive cufflinks and a gold watch, and he'd bet anything that Tony had put a touch of one of those fancy colognes behind his ear. Tony's hair was smoothed back, away from his face, making him look older than his eighteen years.

Tony smiled at him, one of those brilliant smiles of his that lit him up from the inside, and suddenly Gibbs wanted nothing more than to get Tony out of there, to strip all of his fancy clothes off him – the thousand-dollar suit, the silk underwear, the heavy gold jewelry. He wanted to expose Tony, _his_ Tony, _his_ boy, down to his bare skin, and then he wanted to fuck him until they were both bruised and raw and messy, covered in each other's come, breathing heavily, Tony's limbs slack and eyes half-closed, his lips parted, moaning Gibbs' name. He wanted Tony to remember who he belonged to, who cared about him, who damned well loved him. 

And he did love him, oh God, so much that it physically hurt at times. And because of the depth of his feelings for Tony, and the way Tony was looking at him, lips slightly parted, with hope and a touch of defiance in his eyes, Gibbs knew he had to give Tony what he wanted. What he needed, it was clear, even if Gibbs hated Senior with every fiber of his being.

Gibbs decided, against his better judgment, to allow Tony his time with his father, but no more than a couple of minutes because it was too dangerous to stay any longer. If the low, angry words between the DiNozzo men escalated, then he'd step in. Gibbs raised a couple of fingers to his forehead in a salute and after a second Tony gave Gibbs a slight nod and turned back to his father.

***–***end chapter 64***–***


	65. Family

"I think you need to remember your place, Junior," DiNozzo Sr. warned.

Tony ignored his father's reprimand and said vehemently, "Your buddy, your best friend, your fucking _lover_ , was a rapist and murderer and you know it, Dad! You wanted me to fall into his hands, didn't you? I don't get it, why were you so damned eager to get rid of me? You hate me that much? For the past four years I've done everything you've told me to do. I've sucked off your business friends, put up with their groping, their sick comments and all their shit. But still, you were going to hand me off to Sir, to that killer!"

Senior glanced around nervously, aware of the stares they were now getting, from both passengers and from Agent Greene. For a moment, Senior's eyes locked with Gibbs' and he must have seen the warning in them because he looked away quickly and said to Tony, "Lower your voice, Junior–"

"Stop calling me that! My name is Tony!"

DiNozzo Sr. said deliberately, "All right, _Tony_. I was just trying to protect you. I was watching out for our best interest while I was working on a couple of deals that would set us up for the rest of our lives."

"Like double-crossing your partners over the weapons deal?" Tony scoffed.

"I didn't– It was Harding who cut Torres out of that deal, and I did what any smart businessman would do. I stepped in and made sure the money was transferred to a safe place, where Torres would never get his hands on it. I was _protecting_ our assets. I explained this to Harding, but he kept going on about betrayal and saw conspiracies around every corner. He even bugged my phone, damn it!" Senior's neck was flushed a dark red and his jaw was set as he tried to control himself, but his words burst forth like water from a broken dam. "He threatened me! _Me_! We've been close, ever since we were kids. We went to prep school, to college together, we were…" Senior halted and half turned away with Tony watching him intently.

Taking a ragged breath, Tony's father made a visible effort to regain his composure and then said, "It got to the point where I knew the only way I was going to get out of the mess in one piece was if I gave Harding what he wanted, and he wanted _you_." Tony started to speak but Senior held up a hand to stop him. "Now, if your Navy cop friend there had done his job and kept you on a tight leash, Junior, then I would have had enough time to make things right. Instead–"

"Make things right? You mean handing me over to Harding while you skipped the country?" demanded Tony. "I know what you were going to do, _Dad_."

"For God's sake, now, why would I do that? C'mon, Junior. You know I never would have let him hurt you. Anyway, I would have got you back and…and I'd made the arrangements for us to leave the country, to get a fresh start. It would be like the good old times, just you and me," Senior said insistently, offering a wide smile that might fool some people.

Not Tony, though, who was looking appalled and disgusted, and stood there, shaking his head a little. "Good old times? No…no," said Tony, as if he could never find the words to express his feelings.

When it became apparent that Tony wasn't buying his explanation, Senior suddenly turned on his son, saying angrily, "You couldn’t let me handle things my way, could you? No, you chose to go after Harding on your own, and look what happened! It's all your fault. Your reckless behavior got him killed!"

Tony bristled at his father's accusation. " _My_ behavior got him killed? I went after Sir because he needed to be stopped! You knew, you _knew_ he was crazy but you just sat back and let him kill those boys, Dad. Jesus, you even helped him get rid of a _body_! Didn't that tell you something about your friend?"

Senior looked unnerved. "I didn't want to…" He cleared his throat and leaned forward a little, placing one hand on Tony's shoulder, lowering his voice, almost to a whisper. "Look, let's put this behind us, Junior. DiNozzos stick together. As soon as I can I'll get away from these federal goons, get somewhere safe. Then you'll arrange for my funds to be returned to me, eh? You can come with me, or…or you can go back to that college of yours and play football, become a big star, and we can forget about all of this, right? But first you need to tell me where my money is. There's a good boy." He squeezed Tony's shoulder, hard enough to make Tony flinch.

Tony stared at Senior as if he had lost all his marbles and then he ducked the shoulder his father was gripping and stepped back, out of his reach. "No…no, I'm not a good boy."

"Yes you are, Tony, you're Daddy's good boy."

Tony shook his head. "No, you've got it all wrong." He slowly backed away and Senior followed him until they were past the end of the bar. "I'm not that scared kid any more. I'm not…" Tony stood straight and said firmly, "I'm not your son any more."

Senior scowled at Tony, puzzled, but apparently whatever he saw in Tony face made him angry because he grabbed him by his upper arm, pulled him close and said in a threatening tone, "You dare to tell me _no_ , you little piece of shit? You think you can change who you are just because you want to? You'll always be nothing but a cock-sucking whore, Junior, and if you dare defy me I'll take a flogger to your ass and I'll make every stroke count. You remember what that feels like?"

Gibbs figured it was past time to intervene. He dropped his knapsack, pulled Senior off Tony and shoved him back, standing between Tony the angry man. "You do _not_ touch him. Ever," he said, his tone deadly. Out of the corner of his eye, Gibbs saw Agent Greene coming up behind Senior, hand on his holstered gun, but he made a motion with his hand and the man backed off.

"Who the hell do you think–"

"I am the man who takes responsibility for Tony. He's mine now," Gibbs said through gritted teeth. He could feel Tony behind him, trembling a little, and it took everything he had to prevent himself from killing DiNozzo Sr. where he stood, witnesses be damned.

"He has my money!" Senior realized his voice was too loud so he said in a harsh whisper, "He has my _money_."

Gibbs shook his head. "No. It's gone."

"Gone? What the hell does that mean?" demanded Senior, the color in his cheeks fading.

"The money is in our hands now," said Gibbs.

"What? The feds stole my money? Junior, what's he talking about?"

"Stop talking to him," commanded Gibbs. "He doesn't answer to you any more."

"He's _my_ _son_." The way Senior said the word son was nothing like the way Gibbs had ever heard it spoken before. Senior's inflection held nothing of a father's connection to his own flesh and blood, but spoke of Tony as a commodity, nothing more.

"No, not any longer. You don't deserve him," said Gibbs. He moved in and grabbed a fistful of DiNozzo Sr.'s suit and shoved him hard against the bar, enjoying the way the man's eyes opened wide with pain and fear. "He hasn't been your son since the first moment you raised your hand to him! And once you're out of here, on board that jet, you will never see him again. You will _not_ attempt to contact him. You will _not_ threaten him or send anyone to do your dirty work, DiNozzo. This is _not_ negotiable. If you break any of these rules then the penalty is death. You understand?"

Senior stood there with his mouth slightly open, his face draining of color, and then he collected himself and he said, outraged, "You are an agent of your government. You cannot–"

Gibbs got right in his face and snarled, "You really want to test me, DiNozzo?" He pushed Senior aside, and pulled one of the videotapes out of his knapsack. He held it under Senior's nose. "And just in case you need a little incentive, I have a nice little set of these tapes. Yeah, this is what you were looking for when you came to Harding's estate, wasn't it? My people recovered a set of them, and guess what's on them?"

"Don't! Those are mine," Senior said, his voice wavering.

"Damn right, they're of you and Kingston Harding going at it. He really got into delivering pain, didn't he? And you, you got your rocks off on being tied up, having him beat you until you were bloody. It went on for years, didn't it? Until you started to get old and he turned to younger men. Bet that hurt like a bitch, didn't it? Seeing him move on to those kids half your age."

Senior's face hardened with some emotion that Gibbs couldn’t quite read – something between hatred and passion.

"He was leaving me, breaking off our business deals, said he didn't want to risk damaging his position. Harding was planning on running for President and. . . He betrayed me, after everything I _did_ for him, for over thirty years. _Thirty years!_ He knew I wasn't going to let him go that easily and after I. . . I threatened him. I knew I'd gone too far. That's why I went behind his back, made the deal with the ship of weapons, so I could get some cash and leave the country."

"You used us to take him out," Gibbs accused. "You set me and the FBI on Harding's trail, knowing we'd tie him to the murders. You wanted us to kill him for you, to do your dirty work and put an end to your troubles. The FBI was your ticket out. They'd protect you and I'd take care of Tony – isn't that the way it was supposed to play out? Then you'd skip out when the FBI's guard was down and you'd collect the money you'd stashed away and a couple of days later you'd be sunning yourself up on a beach in a country where there's no extradition."

"No, I never thought Harding would die! He was supposed to be disgraced, exposed, and he'd spend the rest of his days and all of his money on lawyers. Harding would never see the inside of a jail cell, he was far to powerful for that to happen, but I wanted to make sure he'd suffer." Senior's expression grew dark. "But you, you and Junior, you killed him!"

Gibbs saw Fornell coming back into the terminal, with two agents at his side, but they didn't approach. Instead Fornell motioned for Greene to back away, and Gibbs was finally alone with DiNozzo. Without looking, Gibbs pushed Tony back and away from him with one arm, and then moved in on Senior, lowering his voice so that nobody else could hear what he had to say.

"Yeah, I killed him, but I did it all on my own, you fucked-up bastard. You think I need anyone to help me?" he asked incredulously. "I'm going to tell you something and I want you to understand me, to _really_ understand me. I'm a Marine, and killing you with my bare hands will bring me nothing but pleasure. I've done it once already this week." Gibbs saw that Senior knew exactly what he was talking about and he nodded. "Yeah, that's right. I snapped the neck of a U.S. Senator, and I got away with it. A justified kill, they're saying, so if you think that for one moment I'll hesitate about taking out a low-lying dick like you, you're dead wrong."

Gibbs kept his eyes fixed on Senior's, making sure that the man not only heard, but accepted, that everything he'd said was the truth. Senior was done, defeated, Gibbs could see that in his eyes, and it gave him a bitter kind of pleasure.

Gibbs turned to Tony and asked, "Ready to go?"

Tony seemed to be dazed, but he nodded and said, "Yeah. Is now soon enough?"

Just as Gibbs reached out and took hold of Tony to march him out of the terminal, Dickson stood up and shouted, "Go on, fag, take your fucking fag boy with you…" The FBI agents immediately tried to quiet Dickson, but the man was fighting them and freely spewing insults, and there was little they could do to shut him up. "Yeah _you_ , bitch, and your pimp of a father…"

Fornell was furious. "You two, put him on the jet and if he doesn't shut up then you have my permission to gag him."

Before the agents had dragged Dickson, who was shouting invectives at the DiNozzos, more than a few feet towards the door, Senior suddenly rushed over and punched their prisoner in the face. Dickson howled as he went to his knees, blood gushing from his nose. Senior grimaced in pain and cradled his hand to his chest, and then he delivered a swift kick to the downed man, telling him, "Nobody insults a DiNozzo, you sack of shit."

Gibbs almost laughed. He started to turn back to Tony with a smile on his face but a loud, sharp noise from outside made him freeze in place. There was another sharp report – small arms gunfire. The FBI agents heard it too and scrambled to move Dickson and Senior away from the windows, shouting for everyone to get down.

Tony instinctively ducked and cried out, "Jethro!"

Gibbs pushed Tony behind the bar, urging him to sit in what appeared to be a protected spot under the counter. "Stay down, no matter what," he ordered, thinking that Tony would be safe from flying glass if the windows were blown out.

Panicky, and obviously not wanting be left alone, Tony reached out for Gibbs. "Wait! Don't leave me here!"

"I need you to be safe," Gibbs said, a hand on Tony's shoulder to keep him there. A man with a voice of authority was instructing people to evacuate the building, directing them out the front, and Gibbs wondered if Tony would be better off out in his truck.

There was more gunfire, closer, and Agent Greene appeared with Tony's father in tow. "Duck down under the counter," Greene ordered Senior. "Don’t move until I come back for you."

Senior, white as a sheet, complied and sat awkwardly next to Tony. Gibbs saw with satisfaction that he'd been handcuffed with his hands in front of him.

"Is it safe here?" DiNozzo asked, looking around worriedly.

Tony surprised Gibbs by patting his father's arm and offering him comfort. "It's okay. They know what they're doing." Senior huddled under the bar's counter, his knees drawn up, and Tony turned to Gibbs and appealed, "Let me come with you. I can help."

"No. You stay here." Gibbs gave Tony's shoulder a squeeze and moved away before he could change his mind. Leaving Tony behind, even if his hiding place was somewhat protected, made him uneasy. He and Greene hurried over to join Fornell, who was standing under the staircase, giving commands over his radio.

Fornell told them, "They spotted a man they think is Torres on the far side of Hangar A. He got away in the dark." He gave terse instructions to the two FBI agents who held Dickson between them, to secure him and then join the search for Torres. Dickson protested and when Fornell took a moment to tell Dickson he'd better keep his head down because it looked like he was also on the mob boss's shit list, he looked scared enough that Gibbs thought the guy might actually piss his pants. When the agents handcuffed Dickson to the brass railing at end of the bar, he demanded they let him go but they ignored his pleas and left him there.

The terminal was almost emptied of passengers, the last of them hurrying out to the parking lot where airport officials were herding them to a safe waiting area. Night had fallen quickly and Gibbs had been so busy with Senior that he hadn't noticed that it was already dark out. There were floodlights shining around the exterior of the terminal but it was pitch black beyond the paved runways.

Gibbs knew his place was out there, hunting Torres down. He asked, "You got a rifle with a night scope out in that van?"

Fornell tossed him a set of keys. "Take whatever you need."

Gibbs ran as fast as he could across the parking lot, cursing his bad leg all the way. He had the back of the van open and a rifle in his hands when he heard someone running in his direction. Quickly shifting the rifle to his left hand, Gibbs drew his Sig from its holster. He slipped his finger off the guard and onto the trigger, aiming at the open door at the back of the van. It would only take a little pressure for a round to fire.

A man suddenly appeared at the back of the van, silhouetted against the bright light of the parking lot. He saw Gibbs with his gun raised and jerked back, hands raised high in surrender, crying out, "Hey, it's me, Tony!"

"Tony!" Gibbs quickly lowered his gun, releasing his breath noisily. "You tryin' to get your head shot off?"

Instead of being rueful, Tony gave a crooked grin and clambered into the van beside Gibbs. "C'mon, Jethro, you didn't really expect me to spend my last moments of life sandwiched between that jackass Dickson and my old man, did you?"  He looked around at the stockpile of armaments in the FBI's well-equipped van. "Cool. Can I have one?" he asked, reaching out to touch a handgun clipped to a pegboard.

Gibbs slapped Tony's hand away and glared at him. "No!" The sound of faraway gunfire could be heard. He pulled a bulletproof vest out of a pile and shoved it into Tony's arms. "Put it on." While Tony was busy putting the vest on, Gibbs located a scope for his rifle and a box of ammo. When he jumped out of the FBI's van in a way that did his bad leg no good, Tony was right on his heels, holding another vest in his hands.

"Here's your vest," Tony said, looking at him meaningfully.

"Watching out for me?" Gibbs asked, his mouth quirking up in a smile.

"Guess I am. You okay with that?"

Gibbs said, "Yup," and they grinned at each other like idiots. He put the vest on then checked Tony's, to make sure that it was tight to his chest. Sniffing, Gibbs discovered that Tony wasn't wearing a fancy cologne after all; he smelled more like coffee.

Tony indicated Gibbs' rifle. "Can I have one of those?"

"Nope."

"I need a gun, Jethro, if I'm going to be your backup."

Gibbs dug his heels. "No way, Tony. You stay behind me at all times. Follow my orders."

"Oh, all right." Tony leaned in and gave him a quick kiss. "For luck," he said.

"I think we're gonna need it," Gibbs muttered, and led the way to the airport's control tower, appreciating that he didn't need to check that Tony was on his six.

***–***end chapter 65***–***


	66. Crosshairs

By the time they had climbed four flights to the top deck of the control tower, Gibbs' leg was giving him hell and he was sweating heavily under his bulletproof vest. He needed to get to the other side of the rooftop where he'd have the best vantage point of the airfield, but before he could take a step, a strong arm slipped around his waist.

"Your leg going to hold up?" Tony asked, supporting him.

Seeing the concern on Tony's face, Gibbs gave a grim smile. "Yeah. It has to." Ducky had warned him, told him to rest and keep his injured leg elevated – or else. Gibbs thought he might have torn something in his thigh, but he had to put his discomfort aside and concentrate on the job at hand. They were depending on his skill as a sniper to support the agents on the ground, and to nail Alonzo Torres the moment he showed his face. "Just get me over there so I can do my job." Gibbs indicated the far side of the rooftop.

Fornell had alerted the air traffic controller, who was still on duty up in the tower, that Gibbs and Tony were on their way up and needed access to the deck. On his way out to a safer location, the controller turned off the lights on the tower's roof, except for the red warning beacons. Gibbs had thanked him for his foresight; there was no point in giving the enemy a well-lit target.

"Don't thank me too soon," the controller had said. "Had to power down the elevator. Use the stairs."

The whole airport was now on lockdown. Flights had been suspended, and the terminal had been evacuated, except for Senior and Dickson and the FBI agents guarding them. By now police and emergency crews would be on their way, though with a dangerous gunman loose somewhere on the grounds, they wouldn't approach until the airport was secured.

With Tony's assistance, Gibbs limped his way along the walkway that ran around the perimeter of the flat roof. He looked up at a windsock, dangling limply from a pole, high among the steel lattice towers that supported the airport's radar and communication instruments. Tony followed his gaze and Gibbs explained, "No wind to interfere with my shooting."

They reached a spot where they had a good view of the airfield, and Gibbs kneeled next to the railing with a grunt of pain. "Want to be my spotter?" he asked Tony, pulling an extra scope out of his vest pocket. Tony's eyes lit up as if he had been given a new toy, so Gibbs cautioned, "You can use the scope but I still need you to keep an eye on the big picture. And we have to keep our voices down."

Tony said quietly, "Yes, sir," and hunkered next to Gibbs, checking out the scene below with his night-vision scope.

The control tower was positioned closer to the runway than the other buildings, enabling them to see the passenger terminal's glass façade below. They had a clear view of the large doors that allowed passengers access to their flights, but they were unable to see inside. The lights in the terminal had been dimmed, but the exterior lights were on, brightly illuminating the tarmac around the building. On the far side of the terminal were two hangars, with the Gulfstream jet and the other plane parked out front.

"Think my dad is still in there?" Tony asked in a hushed voice.

"That seemed to be Fornell's plan," said Gibbs, unable to say with any certainty what the FBI was up to. He raised his rifle to his shoulder, rested the barrel on the railing, and looked through the telescopic sight; it turned the night into day. Gibbs didn't say as much to Tony, but he figured that Fornell was using DiNozzo Sr. as bait to draw Torres out. Agent Dickson was likely to be on Torres' hit list, too. Gibbs couldn't say he was sorry that Dickson had been humiliated and exposed, handcuffed to the big mahogany bar under which Senior was currently taking cover. The bar was solid but it wouldn't offer much protection if they were hit with anything heavier than small-arms fire. All it would take would be for Torres to launch a missile directly into the terminal, and it would take out Senior, Dickson, and anyone else unfortunate enough to be in its path.

Gibbs lowered his rifle to do a visual sweep of the airfield. The grounds crew had been evacuated at the first shot, and now the entire airfield appeared to be deserted. Nothing was moving in the vicinity of the two planes, and there wasn't any sound except for the chirping of some night birds and the hum of distant traffic. From where he was situated, Gibbs couldn't see the parking lot at the front of the buildings, but he was confident that, by now, emergency personnel were moving the civilians who had gathered there out of the danger zone.

If Torres' intent was to come after Senior, to keep him quiet, or to kill Fornell because the FBI agent had been dogging him for months, he'd have to work his way into a position where he'd have a clear shot at them. There was no way to tell if Torres was even out there, but Gibbs had a pretty strong feeling that Torres had been watching the activities around the airport, since before the sun set. After all, that's what Gibbs would do if _he_ were planning an attack. Upping the ante was the fact that Torres has been on the run for a few days, all on his own. With the feds after him and nowhere left to run, he'd be on edge, especially now that his cohort, Manny Parkes, been killed during the attack on the safe house. A desperate man on a mission, with a missile launcher in hand, was never a good thing.

"Where'd all the agents go?" whispered Tony, hanging onto the railing and peering over the edge. "And where's Jenny? I hope she's all right."

Gibbs turned to look at Tony, not liking the way he seemed overly concerned about the redheaded agent. When Gibbs had been busy investigating the attack on the safe house, Jenny had been at the hotel – with Tony – and then she'd driven him to the airport instead of returning to work. When Franks found out what she'd been up to, he was going to come down on her, hard. She'd made no bones about finding Tony attractive, right from the start, when Gibbs had brought him along to the Parrish murder scene. That was the first day they'd spent together. Jenny had eyed Tony, had flirted with him, and Gibbs was sure that she wouldn't hesitate to move in on the young man, never mind about the consequences. It wasn't that Gibbs didn't trust Tony to repel her advances, but Jenny – she could be a bit of a predator at times. He pictured her sidling up to Tony, casually running her fingers down his arm, telling him what a handsome young man he was, looking at him with those big blue eyes of hers while she stroked him, touched him…there. Jesus, the thought of Jenny – of _anyone_ – putting their hands on Tony made Gibbs' blood boil.

"Jethro? Where's Jenny?" Tony was looking sharply at him, and Gibbs had the feeling it wasn't the first time Tony had asked him the same question.

"Searching," Gibbs said, as he turned away and tamped down his jealousy. He hadn't seen Jenny since he'd told her to leave the terminal, to keep an eye open for trouble, but she would have teamed up with an FBI agent so they could watch each other's backs.

The FBI agents would be doing an organized grid search of the airport grounds. The lengthy runways were well lit and anyone traversing them on foot would be spotted right away, so the agents would check out the poorly lit perimeter, including the wooded area. Gibbs used his scope to scrutinize the tree-covered hillside that stood beyond the reach of the airport lights.

"See anything?" asked Tony hopefully.

"Trees," said Gibbs, dryly. "And more trees."

After a couple of minutes, Tony said urgently, "Movement over there, fifteen degrees to your right. I saw something glint."

Gibbs swung his rifle in the direction Tony was indicating. The night-vision scope allowed him to see a fast-moving figure. The letters 'FBI' showed up clearly across the man's back, appearing a bright, whitish-green color in the scope's viewfinder. The federal agent was joined by another man, and the two of them disappeared into the wooded area. Gibbs took his time, checking for further signs of movement, but he didn't pick any up. He was about to move on when there was a flash, and the loud crack of a gunshot from the woods. Both he and Tony instinctively ducked, and there came another shot, and then silence.

Tony crouched next to Gibbs and whispered, "Think someone got Torres?"

"Probably shooting at shadows." They'd be lucky if the agents didn't shoot each other in the pitch-dark of the woods. Gibbs wished he had taken the time to get hooked up with a comm-link so he could keep in contact with Fornell and find out what the hell was going on.

Tony tensed and leaned forward, looking over the railing at something that was going on down below. Gibbs grabbed the collar of Tony's bulletproof vest and yanked him backwards. "Tony!"

Tony fell against Gibbs and they both ended up on their backs on the hard metal deck. Tony protested in a barely restrained voice, "Hey!"

Overriding the shooting pain in Gibbs' right thigh was the feeling of Tony's hand gripping his other leg. It was way too close to his groin, and God, just a couple more inches and he'd…Gibbs gritted his teeth and asked, "You trying to get your head shot off, DiNozzo?"

Tony twisted and his hand slipped off Gibbs' thigh. He ended up lying next to Gibbs, facing him, his eyes glinting with excitement. "I saw someone, down there, hiding behind one of those trucks, Jethro. I'll bet it's Torres, and he circled around while the FBI guys are out there playing 'Rat Patrol.'"

"'Rat Patrol?'" Gibbs shook his head and he rolled away from Tony and crawled to the edge to have a look. A few airport vehicles were parked in a neat row in front of the nearest hangar. At first there was no sign of any activity but Gibbs kept his rifle trained on the deep shadows around the vehicles, doing short sweeps while looking through his night scope, hunting for any sign of his target.

From right next to him, Tony said emphatically, "He snuck out from between those hangars and got behind that truck."

"Patience," warned Gibbs. Tony sighed impatiently but then he squatted next to Gibbs and raised his night-vision scope to his eye. After a couple of minutes Gibbs spotted a shadowed figure partially hidden behind a small vehicle loaded with luggage, ready to be loaded onto one of the aircraft. The guy's manner was certainly suspicious, the way he ducked back out of sight and peered out cautiously a couple of times. Although Gibbs couldn't see the man's face from this high an angle, his gut told him that this was Torres.

Gibbs steadied his rifle and continued to look through the scope at the scene below. For the first time, he noticed a couple of FBI agents standing close to the terminal doors, weapons in hand. They must have been stationed in the alley between the control tower and terminal to keep an eye out for anyone approaching the building, and had just come forward to guard the entry. From their stance, alert yet not alarmed, Gibbs surmised that the agents weren't aware of the suspicious man who was lurking nearby.

Torres, if it was him, moved out of view behind the truck and didn't reappear. Gibbs searched back and forth for a couple of long minutes, and had almost lost hope when he caught sight of the man again. From Tony's sharp intake of breath, it was obvious he also saw Torres.

This time the dark figure appeared on the other side of the truck, closer to the jet. Gibbs didn't even want to think about what might happen if there was a firefight and a stray bullet caused a spark, or hit a fuel source. The man was still obscured in the shadows, and Gibbs needed to ID the subject before he could take his shot. "C'mon, c'mon," he muttered, his finger slipping off the guard and onto the trigger. "Show me your face."

Suddenly, there was a shout from down below, a woman's voice. "Federal agents! Drop your weapon or we will fire!"

"That's Jenny," Tony exclaimed.

Gibbs didn't take his sight off Torres, or the little he could see of him. "She alone?"

"No, looks like two agents are spreading out to flank the guy behind the truck," Tony reported.

Gibbs tuned out the sound of the official commands coming from below, and concentrated on his target. He was waiting for the man to show just a little more of himself…waiting…waiting…and then the man stepped out into the open and quickly raised a bulky weapon to his shoulder – a missile launcher. Finally, Gibbs had a clear view of the man's face in his scope. Like he'd thought, the man in his crosshairs turned out to be the elusive Alonzo Torres. "Gotcha," Gibbs thought as he squeezed the trigger. There was a loud report as he took his shot, and simultaneously an intense burst of light flared in Gibbs' scope, blinding him. There was a high-pitched whistle, and a tremendous explosion rocked the tower. Gibbs fell back, raising his hand to cover his eyes, and instinctively pulled Tony along with him.

With a cry, Tony staggered back, bumping against Gibbs. "Tony! Down!" Gibbs grabbed Tony and forced him to the ground, his arms cradling Tony's head protectively. Tony was on his back, struggling, trying to get out from under Gibbs, but he stilled when Gibbs ordered loudly, "Stay down! Close your eyes!" A moment later small pieces of debris rained down on them, sharply impacting the back of Gibbs' bulletproof vest. Something small and hard careened off the back of his skull, feeling like buckshot. Heavy smoke began to rise and alarms clamored shrilly in the night. There were shouts from below and just as Gibbs raised his head to ask Tony if he was all right, another explosion, far greater than the first, ripped through the air, immediately followed by a shockwave and a fierce blast of heat. Gibbs did his best to shield Tony while more debris clattered down around them.

The onslaught stopped but Gibbs couldn't move. He became intensely aware of Tony's body underneath his own, the hard shells of their Kevlar vests meeting, one of Tony's legs jammed between his own, putting pressure on his groin. Tony was breathing hard against Gibbs' neck, and he was shaking a little. Gibbs lifted his head and Tony blinked up at him, seeking something, reassurance maybe. "It's all right, it's over," Gibbs said, even though he wasn't thinking about the explosions, or how dangerous this was and how they should get out of there. All he could think of was how aroused he was by the way Tony was lying underneath him, panting unevenly, and how fucked-up crazy this was, because he knew that any moment now he was going to kiss Tony.

Tony's hands grasped Gibbs' upper arms, fingers biting into his biceps. His eyes were on Gibbs', imploring for Gibbs to say it was all right, for Gibbs to make the first move.

For a long moment, it was as if time was suspended, and then someone – God, Fate, the Grand Puppeteer, who the hell knows who is running the show – snapped his fingers and Gibbs dove in, seeking Tony's mouth, finding warmth and then searing heat. Tony opened up for him with a low rumble of a groan. Gibbs kissed him, hard and demanding, his tongue sliding and thrusting into Tony's mouth, wanting more, wanting _everything_ , and Tony's hips rose while he made a throaty sound of relief as he gave in. For all of Tony's compliance, he was a man with a man's body – long legs and muscular thighs, and strong hands with fingers that bit into Gibbs' skin and pulled at Gibbs as if he couldn't get enough, and a cock that hardened, pressed assertively against Gibbs.

They broke apart, gasping, cheeks rubbing against each other, Gibbs' bristles abrasive against Tony's softer skin. Gibbs sucked and licked along the muscles of Tony's neck, lips pulling at the skin under his jaw, even as some part of his brain, way in the back, that very small section that wasn't totally overcome by his lust, understood that this was so very wrong. Wrong time, wrong place. But this was how he was, the real Gibbs, the basest of men who was driven to fuck immediately after making a kill, breathing hard with lust and desire while his prey, his _mate_ , cried out and yielded underneath him. It was about taking, and victory, and marking his territory, about _consuming_ his lover. His hips thrust, straining to find that familiar rhythm, his face jammed into Tony's neck, inhaling the remnants of Tony's fear in his sweat, his musky maleness.

Tony's hand was between Gibbs' legs, groping at clothing and zippers, finding his way into Gibbs' pants and then he was fisting Gibbs' cock and crying, "God, oh God," while pumping him hard.

Gibbs rocked into Tony's fist, trying to sate his hunger. He reached between them and delved around, frustrated until he found Tony's cock, hard and thick, wet and slick at the tip, and oh-so-fucking-good when his fist tightened around the velvety flesh and Tony groaned.

Tony's eyes were closed, his features drawn tight with the pain of sexual exultation, and when his head rolled to the side and he moaned deeply, the sight made Gibbs think that this was it, this was _everything_ , and it sunk in that he'd found what he'd been missing, and he grew rigid and shouted with joy when he came. Ribbons of Gibbs' come sluiced through Tony's fingers, hot and pungent in the cold air. Underneath him, Tony clung to Gibbs and shuddered and bucked one last time, his voice raw as he came with a strangled scream.

Breathing heavily, Gibbs collapsed on top of Tony, trying to gather enough strength to rise to his feet. They lay there for a while, and slowly it dawned upon Gibbs that he could hear the sound of sirens approaching, bringing him to his senses. Shit, they were a mess, had to move, get cleaned up, get the hell out of there _._ "Okay…okay. Gotta…get up." He didn't move, couldn't.

"Jethro," Tony gasped, pushing at Gibbs' chest. "You're squashing me."

"Oh, you okay?" Gibbs blinked to clear his eyes. He was still seeing a few bright spots from the sudden flare from the missile, but his vision was good enough to see that Tony was staring up at him.

"Holy fuck, what…?" Tony gave a shaky laugh. "What was that?"

"A missile. Torres…he fired an M72 just as I got off my shot." Gibbs asked, "You weren't injured?" He had been remiss, not to check Tony over right away.

Tony was looking at him as if he was crazy. "No, I don't think so. Except it's sort of hard to tell with you lying on top of me." He smiled. "Not that I'm complaining, mind you, if it's an on-the-job perk."

"Good, 'cause the complaint department is closed," Gibbs said, rolling off Tony. He got one knee under him and struggled to his feet. Tony rose with him and surprised Gibbs by immediately wrapping his arms around him, almost knocking Gibbs over. Gibbs patted Tony on the back, thinking this was a reaction to their close call. "Hey there, we're fine. Everything's okay now." Tony released him, and Gibbs was surprised to find Tony was smiling and shaking his head.

"No, you idiot! I meant, what was that sudden sex attack? Do you always get so turned on when someone's shooting rockets at you?"

"Oh, that. Uh, no. First time," Gibbs said, embarrassed that he'd been so carried away. He half-turned away to tuck himself in and zip up his pants, watching Tony out of the corner of his eye doing the same thing.

"Well, it was really hot," said Tony with a laugh, wiping his hands on his trousers, apparently forgetting that they carried a pricey designer label. "Scary, but hot. Be better without the Kevlar between us though."

Gibbs shook his head and, despite the seriousness of the situation, he couldn't help laughing, too. "C'mon," he said, grasping the back of Tony's neck and giving it an affectionate squeeze.

"Just tell me one thing," Tony said, watching Gibbs pick up his rifle.

"What?" Gibbs asked.

"Tell me you got Torres?"

"I need to confirm the kill, but yeah, I think so." Although Gibbs was sure he'd hit his mark, he couldn't call it a success until he'd seen Torres' body.

Gibbs cautiously moved towards the railing and looked over to see Torres' body, but there was way too much smoke to make out anything more than a few murky figures moving around.

Beside him, Tony let out a low whistle. "Jesus."

Gibbs agreed with Tony. It was a terrible sight. The entire front of terminal been blown away, reducing the building to a jumble of twisted metal and shattered glass, with a fire blazing in its ruined interior. Close by, the smaller plane was burning, its body totally engulfed in flames that reached high into the sky. The heat emanating from the scene was like an out-of-control furnace and it wouldn't be long before the Gulfstream caught fire, too, from the looks of things.

"Jethro?" Tony turned to look at Gibbs, his expression worried. "My dad was in there."

"We don't know that, Tony." Gibbs might believe the worst but he wasn't going to say so to Tony. The heavy black smoke was getting denser by the minute and the noxious fumes of burning aviation fuel seared Gibbs' nostrils. Worst of all, there were flames licking at the base of the control tower. They had to move before they were trapped. "Looks bad. Let's go."

Tony coughed and waved away the smoke that billowed around them. "'It's a fire, mister, and all fires are bad.'" Gibbs stared at him, so Tony quickly said, "Steve McQueen in 'Towering Inferno.'"

Only Tony would make a movie reference at a time like this. His way of releasing built-up tension, Gibbs surmised. "Then let's get the hell out of here, down and out," said Gibbs, turning away from the sight of the devastation and taking a tentative step towards the exit. His leg was bothering him again. Funny thing was that he hadn't noticed any pain while they were busily engaged in sex.

"Is that a line from a movie?" asked a puzzled Tony, sliding his arm around Gibbs' waist as if it belonged there.

"Nope. Quoting Leroy Jethro Gibbs," said Gibbs smugly, giving Tony a quick hug. They hurried to the stairwell that was their only exit, with Gibbs praying that it wasn't blocked. Tony touched the door before he opened it, making sure it wasn't hot, and they entered the stairwell, which was well lit with emergency lights. As they made their way down, they were glad to find that the air wasn't too smoky. Gibbs ended up leaning heavily on the railing and hopping on one leg, gritting his teeth against the pain that came with every step he took.

"Put your arm over my shoulder," directed Tony. He took a lot of Gibbs' weight but it was still hard going. They'd only taken a few steps when Tony pointed out, "You're bleeding. The back of your head."

Gibbs stopped long enough to raise his hand to investigate but there was only a slight sting, and hardly any blood. "Must have been from that stuff that fell on us." Better that he suffered a minor injury than Tony get hurt. "Let's keep going."

They were halfway down when they were met by a fireman in heavy gear, on his way up. "I'm sure glad I found you. The tower control officer told us you were still up there. We thought we'd have to airlift you boys off the roof. Here, let's get you outta here. My name's Bob Macafee." He slung Gibbs' arm around his shoulders and, together with Tony, they assisted Gibbs down the stairs.

On their way down, Gibbs asked, "Where's the worst damage?"

Macafee replied, "The terminal took a direct hit."

"Yeah, we saw that," said Gibbs.

"The FBI guys say it was a missile from one of them hand-held bazooka guns. Brought half the building down in one shot." Macafee shook his head. "A spark must have found a fuel line, and that caused one of the planes to blow. Heat's intense out there. The ARFF crew is already suited up and taking care of the aviation fuel. Our guys are working on the hangar fire but that big jet is probably gonna go at any time. Glad that's not my forty million bucks that's invested in one of those birds. Not that I have forty million to tie up, in any case," he said with a chuckle.

With the fireman's help they were soon down the stairs and out in the comparatively fresh air of the parking lot. Gibbs, still hanging onto Tony for stability, inhaled a deep breath and looked around. It was chaos, with fire crews fully occupied taking care of the blazing buildings, men yelling directions, hoses snaking across the pavement. Fire engines and ambulances clogged the parking lot, and emergency workers were handling victims of the fire and smoke, while trying to keep onlookers far back and out of danger.

Once they were away from the control tower, Gibbs assured Macafee they were all right on their own. They watched him hurry to join his fire crew, who had their hands full trying to contain the blaze.

Tony, who had his arm securely around Gibbs' waist, and didn't seem to be about to let him go anytime soon, said anxiously, "You need to get off that leg, Jethro."

"I need to _see_ that Torres is dead," Gibbs replied in an intractable voice. "Go and check with the EMTs, see if they've seen Senior."

Tony ignored Gibbs' message to back off, and said, "You should stay here. I'm perfectly capable of checking that he's dead. What do I do? Bring back a foot as proof of death? Or maybe his head? I guess that would make more sense. 'Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia,' right?"

Gibbs stared at Tony. "Where the hell d'you get these ideas? You watch too many movies, Tony."

Tony stood there with his mouth open, as if Gibbs has said the unthinkable. "Well, I think you don't watch enough movies. And besides, you're just being stubborn because you're afraid to admit I'm right."

"Tony, it's my job," Gibbs insisted. "Go and see about your dad."

Glaring at Gibbs, Tony said, "I don't give a fuck about my dad right now, Jethro. I'm worried about you. Look, there's no way you're going to be able to walk all the way around these buildings. You need to sit down and have someone check out your leg, and your head, which is bleeding again, by the way." Tony started looking around for an emergency worker who wasn't occupied but Gibbs wasn't having any of it.

"I can do it. I'll lean on you."

Tony frowned at Gibbs and said obstinately, "No. I'm not going to help you hurt yourself even more, Jethro."

"I'll do it on my own then," Gibbs said curtly, extricating himself from Tony's grasp. He called out to an FBI agent who was hurrying by. "Hey! Where's Agent Fornell?"

The agent waved vaguely in the direction of the burning buildings. "On the other side, sir, on the runway. There are men down."

Gibbs started to hobble in the direction the man had indicated, taking a wide berth around the burning buildings. Luckily the smoke was drifting in the opposite direction in the light breeze that had sprung up.

"Jethro," Tony called from behind him, sounding exasperated. "Gibbs!" When Gibbs didn't respond, Tony shouted, "Leroy Jethro Gibbs!"

Pride made Gibbs keep on walking, knowing full well that he'd be lucky if he didn't fall flat on his face. Luckily it was paved underfoot and that made it easier going, though the smoke was heavier as he neared the runway, and the heat was greater, too. Gibbs heard Tony coming up behind him and he started to tell him to leave him alone, that he had to do this, when Tony grabbed his arm and slung it over his shoulder.

"You are one stubborn motherfucker, Jethro. You know that?"

Gibbs continued hobbling along with Tony's help and risked a glance at him. As he'd expected, Tony was angry as well as exasperated. As he couldn't really disagree with Tony's assessment of his character, Gibbs grunted and said, "So I've been told." A moment later he caught Tony smiling begrudgingly and in reply he gave Tony's waist a squeeze. "I've been thinking. Maybe I should keep you around all the time."

"You mean I'd be your backup? I can do that." Tony seemed very interested in the proposition. "I'll be your partner, on your six. Watching out for bad guys, setting them up so you can shoot them down. We are going to make a great team."

Gibbs smiled. "We already _are_ a great team, Tony. Besides, gives us an excuse to hang onto each other." He made a show of looking around to see if anyone was watching them. "Nobody's giving us a second look. Good cover, that's all I'm saying."

Tony looked sideways at Gibbs. "So, you think if I kissed you right now, they'd think I was giving you mouth-to-mouth?"

"Uh, no. 'Fraid not." Gibbs looked at Tony longingly. "Don't want anyone staring at us. I need privacy for what I plan to do with you. Locked doors. Phones off the hook."

"Whoa, that sounds interesting. Let's get this done quickly so we can go home," Tony said, picking up the pace a little.

From out of nowhere Gibbs' heart swelled with pride and love for the young man who had handled himself well in a tough situation. Tony had been through a hell of a lot over the past few days, yet here he was, taking it all in stride. He had grit, that was for sure. "You're a damned good right-hand man, Tony."

Tony looked self-conscious for a moment, but then he nodded and accepted the praise. "Hang on a minute," he said, halting near a fire hose that was leaking water. He made sure that Gibbs was steady before he released him and crouched at the edge of the sizeable puddle. Tony placed his hands, palms down in the water and made a show of rinsing them off. He craned his neck up at Gibbs and asked, "Got a handkerchief?" Gibbs located one in his back pocket and handed it over. Tony dunked it in the water, stood, and cleaned off Gibbs' hands. When he was finished he smiled at Gibbs and shrugged. "Couldn't stand having sticky fingers a minute longer," he said, making an obscene pumping motion with his fist.

Gibbs snorted and put his arm around Tony's shoulders, but instead of staying by his side, he pulled Tony into an embrace. "Love you, Tony."

"Jethro," protested Tony.

"Okay, let's get this over with." Gibbs released Tony and together they moved forward once again, but the smile never left Gibbs' face.

***–***end chapter 66 ***–***


	67. Aftermath

It wasn't until they were standing on the runway, looking back at the airport buildings, that Gibbs and Tony had a good picture of the devastation to the terminal, which had taken a direct hit. Even as they watched, flames engulfed the building and the roof collapsed with a tremendous roar, sending flames and sparks leaping high into the sky. Firefighters in heavy-duty gear quickly moved in to prevent the fire from spreading to the other structures. The heat was so intense that Gibbs and Tony backed away, as did the fire officials who were directing the effort to contain the fire.

An ARFF team wearing special protective clothing was spraying broad swaths of foam over the airplane, trying to smother the flames that were shooting out of its fuselage. Heavy smoke spewed from the plane and oily black clouds drifted low across the runway, obscuring the running lights. One brave worker, protected by a silver fire-retardant suit, was using a pushback tractor to haul the Gulfstream jet that was – by some miracle – undamaged, out onto the main runway and away from the fire. After a few minutes it appeared that his effort was going to be a success.

Gibbs scouted the area for Torres but couldn’t see any sign of him. It was possible that the FBI agents had moved the body, and the missile launcher as well, but the only person who would know for sure was Fornell, and he was nowhere in sight. The whole area was a madhouse with rescue workers dealing with the disaster and more fire trucks arriving on the scene, lights flashing and sirens wailing. Gibbs was convinced that Torres was dead, because if the missile-wielding mob boss had still been on the loose, the FBI wouldn't have allowed the fire and rescue people to approach.

The control tower that Gibbs had used as a sniper's nest had significant fire damage on the near side, and a team of firefighters was hosing down its still-smoldering base. Gibbs stood close to Tony, one hand on his shoulder for balance. Even though the pain in his thigh had eased up a bit, his leg wasn't very strong, and besides, it made a pretty good excuse to hang onto Tony. Gibbs shot a glance at the younger man and found him staring at the burning buildings, transfixed. It was as if he was watching a car wreck from afar, powerless to do anything to help.

Gibbs sought to reassure Tony, saying, "Looks like we were lucky to get out of the tower in one piece." When Tony didn't respond, Gibbs gave his shoulder a brief squeeze and said, "Hey, everything's going to be okay." Tony stiffened and looked away from the burning buildings, as if he'd been caught doing something wrong. "What's the matter, Tony?"

Tony bit his bottom lip, shook his head, mumbling, "Nothing." He went back to watching the firemen hosing down the ruins of the passenger terminal, but Gibbs wasn't going to let it go.

Tony had to be worried sick about his father; probably believed Senior had been killed by the blast when the missile hit, or that he'd burned to death when the building burst into flames. "He might have got out of there," Gibbs suggested, not really believing it was likely. He didn't know how long it had been between the time the missile had struck the building and when it caught fire, but it couldn’t have been long. Maybe there had been enough time for those who weren't seriously hurt in the initial assault to scramble to safety. Maybe.

Tony's response was to shrug, the motion eloquent enough that he didn't have to speak.

Seeing that he was going to have to work hard in order to get Tony to open up, Gibbs sighed. How different Tony's manner had been in interrogation a few days earlier, when he'd questioned him about his connection to Torres. Tony had come in with an attitude, attacking rather than retreating, using his sexuality to twist Gibbs into knots. He'd become good at covering up his true self, from years of practice. This silence was just another way of erecting a barrier, though one that was just as effective as talking back. Either way, Gibbs didn't like the way that Tony was retreating into himself.

Gibbs studied his young lover's face and the way that Tony's cheeks flushed was ample evidence that Tony was aware of his scrutiny, even if he never took his eyes off the burning building. Gibbs wondered if this was about Tony thinking he'd lose face, that Gibbs would think less of him, if he admitted he still cared about his dad. Blood is thicker, thought Gibbs, never mind the deplorable way that DiNozzo Sr. had treated his own son. Tony didn't move, barely blinked, so finally Gibbs suggested, "Let's go find Fornell. He'll know what happened to your father and –"

Tony turned on him, his eyes bright with barely suppressed anger. "No! I don't care what happened to him!"

"Hey," Gibbs admonished. "You're worried. I understand–"

Tony insisted, "No, I'm not worried. I'm _not_. I…Just drop it, all right?"

At least Tony was now looking at him, though Gibbs had never seen him like this, so tense it looked as if he was going to lose it at any second. They were only inches away from each other, Gibbs with his hand gripping Tony's shoulder. Even though Tony tried to hide behind his anger, Gibbs suddenly saw what was at the root of Tony's attitude. Damn, he should have realized sooner – this wasn't entirely about his father. "Oh, I see. This is because we were…" Gibbs waved his free hand in the direction of the control tower's rooftop.

Tony sent Gibbs a look that made it clear he thought that Gibbs had been slow on the uptake. "Yeah. We were up there, jerking off while my dad…while people were dying down here. All this was going on and we were totally oblivious to everything except getting off. "

Gibbs rubbed the back of his head and said slowly, "Yeah, well, you can blame me for starting it. Sort of a heat-of-the-moment kind of thing." Shit, he sounded like a teenager making excuses after getting caught with his hand up a girl's skirt, or down a boy's pants. Gibbs never took his eyes off Tony's, wanting to show him he was sincere in his feelings yet not quite sure how to go about it. "I couldn't wait any longer, felt I had to…to connect with you. Wanted to make sure you were okay, Tony. I mean, I knew you were all right, not hurt or anything, but I…Anyway, I got carried away." He wasn't used to this kind of thing, talking about emotions and stuff, and he felt his cheeks growing hot. "My fault," he finished up lamely.

Tony raised an eyebrow. "I didn't exactly refuse to join in, Jethro. My fault as much as yours. I wanted it, too."

"It wasn't like we planned anything, Tony. So, we got turned on and got carried away. I don't regret it." Neither of them should feel guilty for having some impromptu sex, even if the timing and the place weren't exactly the best of choices.

Tony's eyes dropped to Gibbs' mouth and he said, with a small quirk of his lips, "I don't regret it either, don't regret one moment since I met you, Jethro, but that doesn't make what we did okay." He looked up and met Gibbs' eyes once more, and this time Gibbs could see that Tony's anger had faded. "I think maybe we're both a bit crazy, going at it like humping bunnies on top of a building that's on fire," said Tony, with a smirk.

"Yeah, crazy," replied Gibbs, suddenly wanting nothing more than to kiss Tony, and from the way Tony was leaning into him, looking at his mouth as if Gibbs had something he desperately needed, the need was mutual.

Tony bumped hips and asked, in a low voice that turned Gibbs on, "Jethro, are you tryin' to start something again?"

Could he say, 'Hell, yeah,' and drag Tony back to his truck, and just forget about the business he had to wrap up? A fire truck drove past them, blaring its horn, and Gibbs grabbed Tony's arm and steered him further onto the runway to get out of its path. It gave them both the opportunity to cool down, and after a couple of minutes of trying not to look at each other and failing, Gibbs said, "We need to know what happened to your father, Tony." He didn't mention wanting to know about Agent Dickson, who had likely suffered the same fate as Tony's father. "We'll go ask somebody, okay? Let's go around front, to the rendezvous point."

Tony sighed. "Can we…can we please just concentrate on finding Torres?"

Gibbs gave in and nodded. He wouldn’t broach the subject again, but first chance he got he would ask Fornell what had happened to Senior. "Okay. Torres was over there when I shot him," said Gibbs. The truck that Alonzo Torres had been hiding behind, along with the other vehicles parked in front of the hangars, had been moved to a safer location. The spot on the tarmac where Torres had fallen – when Gibbs had shot him – was now covered with the fire-retardant foam that had been sprayed all around the airplanes. It was plain to see that Torres' body wasn't there any more.

Tony cringed a little and asked, "Uh, Jethro…any chance you missed, and he walked away under his own power?"

Missed his target? Affronted, Gibbs replied, "I know I hit him." He'd squeezed the trigger a second before the flash of light had blinded him, before Torres had launched the missile. He was sure of it.

Tony held up his hands. "Okay, you hit him. No offense. You're the one who said never to assume. I mean, it's a rule, right?"

Gibbs snorted but he couldn’t argue with that, even if sometimes he wished he'd never heard of The Rules. A cloud of noxious-smelling smoke drifted their way and Tony started coughing so Gibbs indicated they should get out of the area. With Tony's arm once more around his waist, and his arm slung across Tony's shoulders, they made their way around the buildings and walked – or limped, in Gibbs' case – to the parking lot out front. There were a hell of a lot more people present than there had been the last time Gibbs had been in the parking lot. In addition to the firemen, it looked like there was a whole squad of LEOs, various officials with badges clipped to their breast pockets, assorted gawkers and passengers who'd missed their flights milling around. A mob of news people, cameras and microphones at the ready, was pushing against the barricades – erected to keep them at a distance from the fire – as if it were a family reunion and they were handing out free barbequed ribs.

A police officer took one look at Gibbs and helped him over to one of the several ambulances parked out front, where medics were busy treating people in need. Gibbs accepted the hand only because he spotted Fornell standing next to the closest ambulance. The FBI agent saw Gibbs and Tony slowly making their way towards him, and he hurried to meet them. Fornell's face was sweaty and smudged with soot, and he appeared exhausted with taut lines on either side of his mouth. Still, he seemed concerned about them and reached out to help Gibbs. "You look like hell, Gibbs. Come on over here and we'll get you fixed up."

"I'm fine. What about Torres?" Gibbs demanded impatiently, shaking off Fornell's hand.

A medic who was finishing up applying a field dressing to a woman's arm, glanced up at Gibbs and Tony. "I can take you two next. My partner's busy," he said, nodding in the direction of the ambulance right behind him.

"Jethro got hit in the back of the head and he was bleeding," Tony volunteered, indicating the afflicted spot. "And he needs someone to check out his leg, too."

"It's nothing," Gibbs said, starting to get pissed off at all the unwanted attention. He wanted to get out of there but knew it wasn't going to be quick or easy. He shot Tony a stern look of warning to stop making a big deal out of his injuries, and Tony rolled his eyes in response, making Gibbs wonder when he'd lost the power to scare people with one of his glares. Fornell chuckled until Gibbs quelled him with one look. Apparently it was only Tony who had become immune to him. Gibbs asked once again, "Can somebody tell me what the hell happened to Torres?"

"Torres was–" Fornell's words were cut off by a bout of coughing. He managed to stop coughing long enough to say, "You got him."

"He's dead then," Gibbs confirmed. He was hit by the usual mixed bag of feelings that laid into him whenever he killed someone in the line of duty. Just like when he'd been on active duty as a Marine, Gibbs felt satisfaction that he did his job well, that he didn't let anyone down or get any civilians killed. On the flip side, occasionally he felt remorse or guilt when he took a life, but this time those emotions were not about to bother him, not on account of Torres.

"Hey, I knew you'd get him," said Tony, punching Gibbs lightly on the arm, looking proud.

Fornell coughed a couple of times, and raised his hand while he shook his head. He managed to say in a croaky voice, "Critical condition…not dead." He motioned towards the next ambulance over, where a couple of FBI agents, looking worse for wear, stood guard. "You hit him in the chest."

Gibbs brushed past Fornell. His need to see the man who had caused so much damage to so many lives superceded everything else at that moment. Tony stuck by his side until they reached the open doors at the rear of the ambulance. Fornell must have signaled the agents to allow Gibbs through because they moved aside and let him by – not that Gibbs would have let anything prevent him from reaching his objective. From where he stood, Gibbs could see a man strapped on a gurney with an EMT working on him, but he couldn't see the prone man's face.

Fornell was at his elbow, protesting half-heartedly, "Gibbs, you can't interfere."

Gibbs ignored Fornell and started to climb into the vehicle. Without being asked, Tony took the rifle from Gibbs and gave him a boost into the back of the ambulance.

"C'mon, Fornell," appealed Tony, from behind Gibbs. "Give him this. He's earned it." Fornell's reply was broken by another bout of coughing, and Gibbs heard Tony say, "Let's get you some O2, Tobias. That cough sounds bad. What'd you do, inhale a lungful of burning jet fuel?" Gibbs had a brief look over his shoulder to see that Tony had called a paramedic over and he quickly hooked Fornell up to some oxygen.

Once inside the ambulance, Gibbs ducked a bit so his head didn't hit the roof, and stood beside the EMT, who was working hard to stabilize his badly injured patient. The EMT, who was working alone, spared only a moment to glance at Gibbs when he identified himself as a federal officer. Although the medic wasn't pleased at Gibbs' presence, he seemed to know there was no getting rid of him. "Just don't get in my way."

Gibbs had no trouble IDing the man lying on the gurney as Alonzo Torres. Torres was a mess, that was for sure. His bloody clothing had been cut away and was lying in sodden heaps next to the gurney. His torso was exposed and was covered with blood from his neck to his waist. A pressure bandage was wrapped around his upper chest but it didn't look like it was doing a great job staunching the flow of blood, which was pooling on the floor of the ambulance.

The EMT was talking to Torres as he worked on him, saying all those things that are supposed to keep an injured person calm, yet in reality tend to frighten them more than ever, because even if you're bleeding all over the damned place and hurting like hell, it doesn't mean you're stupid. A man knows when he's dying. Even though the EMT was doing his best to sound sincere, Gibbs doubted that anyone present was buying his 'everything is going to be all right' assurances.

It was clear that Torres was suffering terribly, and that he was using up what little strength he had left in an effort not to moan. In the too-bright overhead light of the ambulance, the mob boss's three-day growth of beard contrasted with his pasty white skin, and his eyes were starting to glaze over. Torres was having trouble breathing, even with the aid of an oxygen mask, and his chest heaved as he strained to take in more air.

It was obvious that Torres was going to die soon, if not in the ambulance, then in the ER, and Gibbs was determined to have his say before the man took his last breath and went to whatever kind of hell was awaiting him. Gibbs' anger rose as he watched the EMT expending so much energy on keeping Torres alive. "I need to have a word with him," Gibbs said abruptly.

The EMT turned on Gibbs and said indignantly, "Look, Agent–"

"Special Agent Gibbs."

"Yeah, well, I don't care if you're the damned President, you have no right to be here. And I won't allow you to harass my patient. You need to get out of here right now! This man has been critically injured. He's been shot!"

Gibbs looked straight at the paramedic, and said plainly, "Yeah, I know he's been shot. I'm the one who put the bullet in him."

The EMT's eyes widened but he didn't retreat an inch. "We need to get him to the hospital right now, or he's going to die. This man is my responsibility–"

"Yeah, well, I'm going to have a word with him, and nothing you can say is going to change that. The longer you stand here fighting me on it, the longer it's gonna be before you can leave. You want to drag this out?" Another EMT appeared at the rear of the ambulance, who Gibbs learned was the driver, and the two men had a brief conversation about the status of their patient. While they were busy talking, Gibbs took the opportunity to lean over the man he'd shot and say, "Torres! Torres, you hear me?"

Torres' response was to roll his head in Gibbs' direction and moan. His eyes were open and he blinked a few times at Gibbs as if trying to place him.

Gibbs asked, "You know who I am? I'm Special Agent Gibbs, NCIS."

"Who?"

"Gibbs. I shot you, from the roof." Torres' eyes were dark and bright but they focused on Gibbs, and Gibbs could see hatred as well as defiance in their depths. He almost admired the mob boss for his tenacity, hanging on and fighting to the bitter end.

"Yeah…I know who you are. You're the fucking queer. Took DiNozzo's kid," Torres said, his voice weak and muffled behind the oxygen mask. "Harding offered me a taste…of the boy…but I don't touch…dirty fags. Why should I care who the fuck you are?"

"I killed Senator Harding, broke his neck, and it looks like I've killed you, too," said Gibbs matter-of-factly. "The world will be a better place without you, Torres."

The little amount of color in Torres' face drained away but he managed to say, "Too bad you weren't in there with DiNozzo. I'd have paid good money to hear…you scream…watch you burn…you and your fuck-boy." Gibbs had to listen closely to understand him when Torres said weakly, "Knew DiNozzo…since we were kids. He hated fags as much as me. Took it out on Tony 'cause he was one of them. You're gonna…burn in hell, you fucked-up homo."

Torres' words washed over Gibbs, their meaning lost in a rising wave of hatred that threatened to overwhelm what little remained of his good sense. Gibbs somehow hung onto the vestiges of his control and shook his head. "No, it's you who's gonna burn, Torres, for a lifetime of dealing in drugs. Extortion. Murder. You killed those FBI agents in Jersey, and another agent – a good man – died this morning at the safe house."

"So? What the fuck you want?" Torres started coughing and blood sprayed inside his oxygen mask.

"I'll tell you what I want. When you're taking your last breath, drowning in your own blood, I want you to remember that it was _my_ bullet that ended your miserable life. You've lost, Torres. You're done."

The paramedic was back, pushing past Gibbs. He took one look at the erratic heartbeat on the cardiac monitor over Torres' head and said in an urgent tone to the driver, "Let's get rolling."

Fornell was at the rear of the ambulance, telling Gibbs his time was up, trying to get him out of the emergency vehicle. Gibbs turned his head in Fornell's direction, only for a couple of seconds, and when he looked back at Torres the man was gasping, his face turning blue, blood gushing out of his open mouth.

Suddenly sick of the whole thing, the ugliness, the death and the never-ending rounds of senseless violence, Gibbs scrambled out of the ambulance, desperate to get the hell out of there. Tony was at his side, pulling Gibbs' arm over his shoulder and holding onto his hand. Gibbs didn't even ask for his rifle back; he leaned heavily on Tony and, for once, let him take the lead. Together they walked away, and Gibbs didn't care where they went so long as it was somewhere else. Tony didn't say a word, although he looked worriedly at Gibbs every few seconds. They stopped at the barricade, and Gibbs put a hand on Tony's chest and said, "You have to go back."

"What? What for?"

"You have to go and ask Fornell about your dad."

Tony shook his head. "No, I told you…Look, I just want to get you home."

Home. God that sounded good. Not yet though. "Tony, you need to know."

"I do _not_ need…" Tony swallowed and then said in a constricted voice, "I don't care if he's dead. He means nothing to me. I don't need him any more." Tony looked over his shoulder in the direction of the burning buildings. "Hell, he'd probably be pleased that he went out with such a bang. His funeral pyre is gonna appear on the front page of every major newspaper in the country, on national TV, the top story at eleven."

Gibbs was saved from any more quarreling with Tony when Fornell caught up to them. He had Agent Greene with him, and Gibbs remembered that Greene was the agent who'd been left in charge of Senior and Dickson. He'd survived the missile strike, though his suit was charred pretty badly in places and there was a raw-looking burn on his forehead. He looked tired but was smiling anyway. A close brush with death will do that to you, make you glad you're breathing.

Fornell said, "Hey, Gibbs, a call just came in. There's an NCIS team coming in to handle the shooting report and you'll need to hand over the rifle."

When Gibbs thought about reports and de-briefings, and dealing with his boss, and his boss's boss, the small amount of energy that he had quickly slipped away. He really needed a hot shower, preferably one that involved Tony and a lot of soap, and then he wanted to climb into bed – with Tony – and sleep…just sleep with no interruptions. Tony said something that Gibbs missed, and Gibbs asked, "What?"

Tony was grinning, it turned out, with relief. "Look, it's Jenny! She's all right."

"Gibbs, Gibbs! Tony!" Jenny called, rushing to their side. "We got Torres," she said, exultant.

"You mean Gibbs got him," Tony said immediately. "I was up on the roof of the control tower with him. I was his spotter." He beamed with pride.

"My people were involved, too," Fornell pointed out.

"Teamwork," said Gibbs. He didn't really care which individual took credit for the kill, so long as it went to an NCIS agent and not the FBI. There'd be an investigation, more Internal Affairs, more questions, more…He couldn’t think about it now. It made his stomach churn. "Was there anyone in the terminal at the time it was hit?"

At the same time, Tony blurted, "Has anyone seen my dad?"

"Well, Agent Dickson's dead," Fornell said. "Bought the farm."

Jenny volunteered, "Agent Greene pulled Dickson out before the fire took hold but he was already dead – decapitated by the blast – and his head was rolling…"

Gibbs couldn’t say he was sorry about the loss of Agent Dickson. The man had been corrupt, had caused other agents' deaths by giving the mob inside information. There'd be an internal investigation, of course, but the FBI would probably be able to keep a lid on it.

"And my dad?" Tony asked, a bit pale after hearing Jenny's description of Dickson's fate.

Greene looked around, searching, then pointed to an ambulance. He said sympathetically, "There. He's in that one."

"Is he…? Is he dead?"

***–***end chapter 67 ***–***


	68. Possession

"My dad, is he okay? He's not…dead, is he?"

Agent Greene glanced at Gibbs before he said to Tony, in the kind of voice that cops saved for victims' families, "Your dad was injured, Tony, and an EMT is taking care of him. I can take you to see him if you want.

Right away, Tony started to follow the FBI agent, but Gibbs caught hold of Tony's arm. "Hey, I thought you were finished with him," Gibbs said sharply, reminding Tony that he'd already cut ties with Senior.

Tony didn't fight Gibbs' hold on him when Gibbs pulled him between a couple of police cars parked by the curb, where they would be out of the way of the emergency crews. Out of the corner of his eye, Gibbs saw Agent Greene head over to talk to Fornell, and he was thankful for the privacy. Tony faced Gibbs, his expression strained. 'He believes his father's going to die,' thought Gibbs, 'and he's prepared himself for the worst.' Even now, Senior still had the power to lure his son to his side. It crossed Gibbs' mind that Senior probably got himself injured on purpose, knowing it would bring Tony running, but then Gibbs pushed it aside as being paranoid.

When Gibbs didn't relinquish his hold, Tony looked at the hand gripping his bicep and said evenly, "You're hurting me."

Gibbs immediately let go. "I didn't mean to…" What the hell had gotten into him? The last thing he wanted to do was to hurt Tony, and he was angry at himself for allowing his hatred for Senior get the better of him. "I'm sorry, Tony."

Tony dropped his gaze and shrugged, rubbing his arm. "It's nothing."

Gibbs said in a low voice, "Don't do that."

Tony's eyes flew up to Gibbs' face. "Don't do what?"

"Don't shrug it off. Nobody… _nobody_ should ever hurt you, me included. If they do, you tell them to stop. You make sure they know it's wrong. You tell them, like you just told me." Tony was staring at him, and seemed to be struggling with the concept, which only served to make Gibbs angry. He was reminded of the first night they'd spent together, when Tony had expected Gibbs to hurt him during sex, believing it was his due. "Don't you understand?" Gibbs asked, and his heart ached when he realized that Tony really didn't get it, didn't _believe_ he didn't deserve to be hurt – not deep down, anyway.

Tony responded in a quiet voice, "Yeah, I understand, but it's hard, after…" He looked away, his cheeks coloring.

Of course it was difficult to change your way of thinking after being trained to accept the abuse your father meted out as a way of life, the norm rather than an aberration. It was going to be hard for Tony to adjust, but Gibbs knew he'd be able to do it, that it would take time. Maybe he was expecting too much, too soon. "Oh, Tony," Gibbs sighed. He reached out to touch Tony, to let him know he was there for him, but before they made contact, Gibbs let his hand fall back to his side. God, how he wished that he could hug Tony right then and there, wished he could take away the pain and confusion that lurked in his eyes. "You're doing the right thing, Tony, cutting ties with your father. You don't deserve to be used like that. Nobody does."

Tony scuffed his foot on the pavement and said, "I know I said I'd never talk to my dad again, but I think…I think I should see how he is. He's hurt, Jethro. He might be dying." He looked to Gibbs for approval, or understanding, at the very least.

But Gibbs wasn't about to sanction anything that placed Tony within a hundred yards of DiNozzo Sr. He _couldn’t_ , not even when Tony looked at him like that, as if he was giving himself up, offering up his very soul, to do whatever he liked with him.

When Gibbs was a kid, back in Stillwater, his father had accused him of being a willful boy – on more than once occasion. He could still hear his dad scolding, "Leroy, just because you're stubborn don't make you right." One thing was for certain, the years hadn't done much to change his stubborn streak. He could dig his heels in with the best of them.

So Tony wanted Gibbs' blessing? Well, he wasn't about to get it, and nothing he did, or said, would make Gibbs change his mind. Gibbs leaned against one of the police cruisers and crossed his arms. Nope, not gonna happen. He shook his head slowly back and forth.

"Jethro? Please?"

Tony was looking at him as if he had all the answers, which made Gibbs feel like a fraud. Who was he to say what was best for Tony? He loved Tony, no doubt about that, but what the hell was he supposed to do? Order Tony to stay away from that bastard who dared to call himself Tony's father? Senior didn't have a clue what it took to be a parent, or how precious a child's life could be. Well, Gibbs knew, and although he had no intention of being a father to Tony, he cared about him as much as he'd ever cared about another person, his wife and child included. But did that give him the right to tell Tony he had to stop caring about his dad? Did he need to remind Tony that Senior had given his son nothing but a lifetime's worth of pain, and valued him only as he would any other commodity? Damn it, Tony already knew all that.

It maddened Gibbs that Tony still wanted to see Senior after everything he'd done to him, and it made him want to shake some damned sense into the boy. Well, he'd had enough of this. It was high time he hauled Tony over to his truck, got him home – and naked – and showed him what love was all about.

Tony laid a hand on Gibbs' forearm, briefly, in case anyone took notice, and said in a low voice, "You always know what to do. You said you'd help me out, Jethro."

The easy thing to do would be to tell Tony to forget about his father, to come with _him_ , and Tony would obey. Gibbs was well aware that he had that kind of power over the young man, and it was mighty tempting to use it. Tony would do as he was told, and Senior would be out of their hair. Only somewhere down the line, Tony would begin to resent him for interfering, for getting between him and his father, and there'd be no going back. No, Gibbs couldn't make this decision for Tony, not if he expected them to have any kind of future together.

Tony was watching him closely, so Gibbs said reluctantly, "It's your call, Tony."

Tony bit his bottom lip as though he was itching to say something in reply. Whatever it was, he managed to hold it in, with difficulty. If the situation hadn't been so tense, Gibbs might have smiled at the way Tony's features twisted in an effort to remain silent.

At this rate, they'd end up standing around all night if Gibbs didn't give Tony a nudge in the right direction. "Go ahead and say it, Tony," Gibbs said abruptly. He pushed himself off the car that he'd been leaning against and steadied himself with one hand on Tony's shoulder. He could feel the heat coming off Tony's body, right through the heavy FBI-issue vest he still wore. Gibbs could see the green of Tony's eyes, and the flecks in them that he knew to be a deep shade of gold when the light hit them a certain way. As soon as those eyes looked into his with a deep and genuine trust, colored with love, Gibbs became resigned to the fact that he'd do whatever Tony asked of him, no matter what it might be. "It's okay, just tell me," Gibbs said tiredly.

Tony looked anxiously in the direction of the ambulance that held his father, and then back at Gibbs. "You don't want me to see him." It wasn't quite an accusation, the way he said it; not quite, but almost.

"No, I don't want you to have anything more to do with him, Tony," he said, knowing that his disapproval would sway Tony as much as a direct order would.

Tony held Gibbs' gaze for a long moment, disappointed, and he said solemnly, "I know what you think of my dad, and you're right. He's entirely self-obsessed, he's conniving, and he doesn't care if he hurts people. After this, I won't have anything to do with him, I promise, but…"

"But he's still your dad," Gibbs said with a sigh. "Yeah, I get it." He moved his hand to the back of Tony's neck, where the hairs were soft and fine. He gave a gentle squeeze and relented. "Tony, you know what you need to do, in your heart, and that's what counts. Whatever you decide to do, I'll be there for you."

"You will?"

Gibbs smiled fondly at the young man. "Damned right I will." He pulled Tony into a quick hug, wanting so much more, but knowing they'd already pushed the boundaries of what was rational.

He sought out Fornell to let him know they were leaving, and saw he had set up a command station in an FBI van over by the ambulances. The lead FBI agent was giving directions to his people, even as he talked on the phone. A moment later Fornell finished his call, looked around and, as soon as he spotted Gibbs and Tony, picked up a couple of bottles of water and made a beeline for them.

Fornell was still coughing a bit, but he'd cleaned most of the soot off his face, and Gibbs thought he looked a lot better than he had earlier. "You doin' okay there?" asked Gibbs.

Fornell seemed surprised that Gibbs was concerned about his wellbeing. "Yeah, took in some smoke but I'll be fine." He handed over the bottled water, and while Gibbs and Tony drank thirstily, Fornell asked, "The security at the gate informed me that Special Agent Franks is here, and I just got a call that both of our directors are coming in by helicopter; ETA is five minutes." He made a motion in the direction of the airport buildings, which were still burning although the fires seemed to be under control. "This show is almost over. We were damned lucky this time. Not too many casualties. Some smoke inhalation, cuts from flying glass, minor injuries mostly. Agent Dickson was the only one killed outright." Fornell smiled grimly and announced, "Oh, and I thought you'd like to know – I just got word that Alonzo Torres didn't make it. Died before he reached the hospital."

Gibbs said, "Yeah, figured as much." He couldn’t get worked up about it even if Fornell seemed satisfied with the outcome. Another up-and-coming mobster would take Torres' place before the mob boss was six feet under, and it would start all over again. Everyone was expendable in these organizations, and even though Torres was valuable due to his strong connections with the Colombian drug suppliers, the mob's business wouldn't grind to a halt without him.

Tony looked at Gibbs meaningfully and said, under his breath, "Same dance, different partners."

"Yup," replied Gibbs.

There was still a hell of a lot to do before the case was wrapped up. There would be inquiries into everything that had gone on here at the airport by government agencies, the FAA, and the media, too. And there were also the repercussions from Senator Harding's death to deal with. The brass was handling that and the damage control already underway; NCIS didn't leave its agents to hang out to dry.

"When your boss gets here, how about I take care of Tony, Gibbs?" Fornell's phone rang and he raised his finger to say he'd only be a minute as he turned away to take the call.

Gibbs placed his hand on Tony's shoulder, unwilling to let Fornell – or anyone else – take him anywhere. In any case, Tony hadn't moved in response to Fornell's invitation and seemed to be waiting for Gibbs' consent. Tony, who didn't seem to mind at all that Gibbs was being blatantly possessive, pointed out that Mike Franks and Stan Burley had arrived. The NCIS agents were at the barrier, showing their IDs to a cop who appeared to be giving them a hard time.

Tony laughed at the sight of Franks berating the security cop, and after a moment he turned to Gibbs to say, "Here, Jethro. You'll want your rifle back." Tony relinquished the rifle he'd been carrying for Gibbs, slipping the strap off his shoulder.

Gibbs nodded his thanks and took the gun. As soon as Fornell was finished with his call, Tony would have to make his choice – stay with Gibbs or go and see his father – and Gibbs was not at all eager to find out what Tony would do. He was all too aware of Tony's proximity as he tried to come to grips with his fear that Senior would somehow steal Tony away from him. Gibbs had no doubt that Tony was committed to him, heart and soul, and Tony would never go anywhere with his father, not willingly.

So what was his problem? Gibbs told himself that he had nothing to worry about, but just the same, his fear wouldn’t go away, no matter how irrational it seemed to be once he'd reasoned it out. Tony had said that Senior no longer had any hold over him, and that should be enough to ease Gibbs' mind, but nevertheless, he couldn’t shake the persistent feeling that he was going to lose Tony. Unable to voice his fears, or do anything about them, Gibbs did his best to ignore them. Looking for something to do while they waited for his boss to get past the cop, Gibbs suggested, "You want to take off your vest now? It's safe."

"Oh, yeah. Almost forgot I had it on. I love carrying an extra ten pounds around on my shoulders," Tony said.

"I ain't gonna complain. Vests have saved me more than once." Gibbs remembered how the bulletproof vest he'd been wearing during the shootout at the boathouse had deflected the force of Harding's bullet. From the look on Tony's face, he remembered, too.

Once Gibbs had put the rifle safely aside, and had removed his own FBI-issue vest, he helped Tony to remove his, since he was having trouble undoing one of the buckles. Once it was off, Tony deposited the protective gear on the hood of the police car. He held aloft the night-vision scope he'd kept in a pocket. "Think maybe I can keep this?"

"Only if you want the FBI to knock on your door with a warrant in hand," Gibbs said with a straight face.

"Ah, I'll just have to put it on my Christmas list then," said Tony. He placed it with the other equipment and then tugged at his suit jacket, which he had been wearing under the vest. "Oh hell, look at my Zegna," he groaned.

"Your what?"

Tony rolled his eyes. "Ermenegildo Zegna. He's a designer, Jethro. Italian, the best."

Gibbs made a derisive sound, but watched with interest as Tony ran his hands down his jacket and over his thighs, trying to smooth out the wrinkles in his expensive suit. "How much did that thing cost?" Tony mumbled something so Gibbs said, "Didn't hear you."

Tony stood straight, to his full height, and said, "This suit's value goes beyond a dollar amount."

"That much, huh?" Gibbs said, making it obvious he wasn't impressed.

"Shoot, these creases will never come out." Tony craned his neck to check out his rear end and whined, "And it's a mess from when you pushed me onto the ground. Man, it'll cost me a fortune to get this suit repaired and it'll never be the same." 

Gibbs remembered pushing Tony down, all right, to protect him, and he had a flashback to the hot-as-hell sex that had immediately followed. Just thinking about the rigid heat of Tony's erect cock in his hand, the velvety skin sliding back and forth within his clenched fist, and the moans coming from Tony's mouth, made Gibbs hard again. He leaned in and sniffed, catching a whiff of Tony's cologne and sweat and his come; they'd both ejaculated in their shorts while on the rooftop and hadn't had a chance to clean up yet. Gibbs said in Tony's ear, his voice rough and low, "Forget the damned suit. I like you better naked." He caught Tony's blush of pleasure and, peering down at Tony's pants, he noticed that they were now tight across the crotch. Gibbs grinned; at least his NCIS jacket was long enough to conceal his own erection. "Looks like we need to go home. Now."

Tony was about to respond when Mike Franks and Stan, who had made it through the checkpoint, walked over. Franks was limping heavily but seemed to be getting around pretty well with the aid of a walking stick. Right on his heels was Stan, who was gaping at the burning buildings and the firefighters who were hosing down the remaining flames. Stan asked, "What did we miss?"

Fornell finished his phone call and came over, welcoming Mike Franks with a handshake. "You missed plenty, but there's still plenty of excitement to go around, son," he said to Burley.

Mike Franks squinted at Gibbs and asked, "Tell me, why is it that when I hear about explosions and fires, all these internal alarms go off, and I immediately think, Gibbs has to be in the middle of this mess?"

"Uh, experience, Boss?" Gibbs suggested, holding back a smile.

Franks looked Gibbs up and down and it was clear from his expression that he didn't think much of Gibbs' condition. "Hmm. That the weapon you used? Hand it over to Burley to be bagged and tagged," Franks ordered. After a sweeping glance over Fornell, Gibbs and Tony, he said, "You all look like you've been through a war. At least now we can take Alonzo Torres off the books."

Fornell bragged, "We sure did. It was a team effort–"

Franks glared at the FBI agent. "Yeah, thanks to my agent."

Gibbs handed over the rifle that he'd used to shoot Alonzo Torres, and Burley moved to the side to mark it for the team who would investigate the shooting. Jenny joined Burley, happy to share all the details with him about the missile attack, and the fires and explosions, and how Gibbs had shot Torres from the roof of the traffic control tower. "Got him in one shot," Jenny said. "Did you hear about FBI Agent Dickson? Greene pulled his body out but left the head behind."

***–***

While Franks and Fornell were engaged in a heated discussion about which agency was going to handle which aspect of the investigation, Agent Greene came over to shake Gibbs' hand. He said, "I'm on my way to the hospital, but, uh…Look, I want to apologize for the way things went down at Senator Harding's mansion. I know I checked that closet but somehow I missed Harding, and it was my fault you and Tony got hurt. I almost got you killed and…I'm sorry. I just want to say that while I have the chance."

Gibbs glanced at Tony before he accepted the apology. "I wouldn’t want to have another fight like that, in such close quarters, anytime soon. Harding was one crazy bastard but we're both okay, so…"

Greene chuckled and said, "Gibbs, if you call getting stabbed and tossed in that freezing lake, and all the other shit that went down, okay, you're crazier than Harding ever was. Glad you're on our side. Look, I've got to go. Hope we get to work together again. You too, Tony. You did good." He reached out for Tony's hand and shook it.

Tony smiled at the compliment, but Gibbs could see how tired he was. He was exhausted, too, and he didn't think he could stand around much longer, not even with Tony to lean upon.

Now that Franks had concluded his game of one-upmanship with Agent Fornell, he turned his attention to Gibbs. "I need a briefing before Director Morrow arrives. You can tell me the basics, and then you'd better check yourself into a hospital, Probie."

"Hey, c'mon, I'm fine, Boss," replied Gibbs, even though the thought had crossed his mind that he might get someone to look at his leg wound. Not tonight, though. Tonight he was going home. He didn't have to look at Tony to know he was glaring at him, and sure enough, Tony hissed, "Jethro, you need someone to check you out."

Immediately, Franks was right in Gibbs' face, saying, "As soon as we've had our talk, you are going to march right over to your vehicle, Agent Gibbs, and Tony is gonna drive you to a secure location where you can get the care you so obviously need."

"But, Boss…"

"Do not buck me, Probie. I tell you to do something, I expect you to do it, without any backtalk. Do I make myself clear?"

Gibbs figured it was fatigue that made him slow, but he caught on just as Tony butted in, saying, "I know exactly what Agent Gibbs needs, Special Agent Franks. I can take care of him."

Franks met Gibbs' eyes and grinned. "See? Smart kid. Might make an agent out of him yet."

"Thank you, Special Agent Franks," Tony said with a smug smile.

Gibbs gave Tony a light slap on the back of his head, and before Tony could ask what it was for, Gibbs groused, "That's for getting too big for your britches." Tony rubbed the back of his head and scowled, but bit back a retort.

"Okay, Probie," said Franks. "You and me need to talk first, then you can go." He asked Tony, "Think you can find something to do for a few minutes that don't involve pointy objects?"

Tony looked to Gibbs for an answer, but Fornell stepped in and suggested, "Tell you what, how about you men catch up while I take Tony to see his dad. Don't worry, Gibbs, I'll take good care of him."

Not happy about it, but knowing he couldn't stop Tony, Gibbs made a non-committal sound.

"Wait…I need to say something to Jethro first," Tony said, looking intently at Fornell and Franks until they caught on that Tony meant he wanted to talk to Gibbs alone. As soon as the two men moved away, Tony turned to Gibbs and said, quietly, so that only Gibbs could hear, "You know I love you, Jethro."

Surprised that Tony would speak his feelings aloud when there were so many people milling about, Gibbs glanced around nervously before saying, "Yeah, well, I love you, too."

Tony searched Gibbs' face and asked, "No matter what?" When Gibbs didn't immediately respond, Tony asked persistently, "You'll love me, no matter what?"

"Of course." Worried, Gibbs asked, "What's going on, Tony?" Tony bit his bottom lip and shook his head mutely, and if he was going to reply, he never got the chance.

Fornell motioned to Tony with a sweep of his arm and called, "C'mon, Tony. Agent Franks is chomping at the bit. He needs to talk to Gibbs." Before Gibbs could do or say anything to prevent him, Fornell had slung an arm around Tony's shoulders and was ushering him towards the ambulance where DiNozzo Sr. was receiving medical care.

Tony looked over his shoulder to seek out Gibbs, and when Gibbs didn't yell at him to get his ass back here, he went willingly with Fornell.

Well, Tony wanted to see his dad, so maybe this would get it out of his system, once and for all. Gibbs was worried though, about Tony being so needy, demanding assurances that Gibbs would love him – no matter what. There was something going on with him, and Gibbs was determined to find out what it was as soon as Tony returned.

***–***end chapter 68 ***–***


	69. Handcuffs

"Tony'll be fine, Probie," said Franks, his tone surprisingly understanding. "Fornell's a good man, for a Feeb. Let's head over to your pickup and you and me can talk." Luckily Gibbs' truck was parked only a short distance away, inside the barriers the police had set up, and the two men limped over to it, both trying to hide the fact they were in pain.

Franks lowered the tailgate so they could sit, and the moment Gibbs took the weight off his leg, the nagging pain in his thigh eased a bit. He had a feeling it wasn't going to be easy to get to his feet again, and not only because of his wounded leg. He'd lost a good amount of blood during the fight with Senator Harding a couple of days ago, and although he'd never say as much to anyone, Gibbs knew it would be a few more days before his energy level returned to normal.

The events of the day, and night, were catching up to him. His right leg hurt every time he put any weight on it, and now his left knee – the one that had been torn up during Desert Storm – was acting up. To make matters worse, he had a headache from being whacked on the back of his head with a hunk of metal when he was protecting Tony up in the tower. Gibbs touched the back of his skull gingerly with his fingertips and found a sore spot along with congealed blood stuck to his hair. Great, with his luck he had a concussion and he'd have to get Tony to drive them home.

Tony's cryptic words came back to him, his demand for assurance that Gibbs would love him, 'no matter what.' What the hell was that all about? Gibbs had a feeling in the pit of his stomach that told him that Tony was hiding something from him, something he definitely was not going to like. He planned to get the truth out of Tony the moment they were alone. Whatever it was, it probably wasn't half as bad as Tony believed it to be. Gibbs turned his head to look in the direction of the ambulance to see if he could catch sight of Tony, but a fire truck obstructed his view.

"He ain't gonna croak. Not tonight, anyway," Franks said as he lit up a cigarette.

"Who isn't?" Gibbs had no clue what his boss was talking about.

"DiNozzo Sr." Franks took a couple of deep drags on his cigarette and sighed with satisfaction. "He's gonna live. I got an update on the situation from the FBI on the way here. Got a report on the casualties."

Gibbs realized nobody had been specific about the injuries Senior had sustained. "How bad is he?"

Franks shrugged. "Worst thing DiNozzo got was a broken arm, so I'd say this is his lucky day. Not many men can say they've survived two missile strikes in one day. And he's got some cuts and bruises on top of the bruises you gave him when you beat him up. Nothing that'll prevent him from talkin'. The FBI still plans to take him to New York, to squeeze everything they can out of him, about the mob and all his dirty business dealings."

"And then he's going under Witness Protection?"

Pulling a face, Franks said, "Well…between you and me, Probie, it don't look like they're planning on sending him to some backwater town with a new identity, after all."

Gibbs stared at his boss. "What are they're going to do? Suck him dry then toss him out on the street when they're done with him?"

Franks said, with obvious reluctance, "Well, the word is that DiNozzo's made a brand new deal – he's trading information for his freedom."

"What about the charges against him?"

"Apparently whatever he's blabbing about is worth a hell of a lot to somebody, enough so they're willing to drop the charges," said Franks.

If Senior weren't admitted into the Witness Protection Program, he'd be on the loose, back to his old tricks. He'd be out there somewhere, a constant threat to Tony's future happiness, and frankly, the thought scared Gibbs. Whatever it was that Senior knew, it had to be something pretty significant to merit such a deal. He wondered if Tony knew what was going on, and this was why he'd been acting so oddly earlier.

"Of course," Franks said, "as soon as the FBI releases DiNozzo, he's gonna have to hightail it out of there, go to ground. Every hit man with ties to the Colombian mob is gonna be gunnin' for him before the front door of the Hoover Building hits him on the ass. Probably looking for him right now." Franks grinned at the image that presented, and slapped Gibbs on the back. "And you, Probie, you took out Alonzo Torres. Good job. One shot from…how tall's the tower? Sixty feet? Man, takes me right back to 'Nam, making my nest up in a sandbagged tower with a starlight scope on my M40."

By the time Gibbs had finished giving his boss a short version of the events that had led up to him shooting Torres, the director of NCIS had arrived by helicopter. They sat on the back of Gibbs' truck and watched the Black Hawk land on a helipad at the side of the runway. Director Morrow emerged once the rotors had ceased moving, accompanied by FBI Director Walker and a couple of agents serving as their protection detail.

Franks took one last draw on his cigarette and stubbed it out. "I'd say this is a good time for you to cut and run, Gibbs. If Director Morrow gets a hold of you, you'll be stuck here all night." Franks stretched and said, "Looks like I'm up. Gotta go and press the flesh."

Gibbs was able to get to his feet on his own, even if he was a bit unsteady at first, hopping on his good leg. And if Franks made sure he wasn't going to do a face-plant – under the guise of shaking Gibbs' hand and patting his back – well, men didn't talk about some things, even if they both knew damned well what was going on.

Franks handed Gibbs his cane. "Here. Take this. Looks like you need it more than I do."

Accepting the wooden cane only because he wanted to go and find Tony as quickly as possible, Gibbs said, "Thanks, Boss."

"Go on, get out of my sight, Probie, before I change my mind and make you fill in your report tonight."

Gibbs didn't wait any longer. Aided by the cane, he made his way to the ambulance where Senior was being treated. Gibbs was concerned that while he'd been with Mike Franks, Tony's father had somehow convinced – or coerced – his son to leave with him. He was relieved to see that the ambulance was still there, although its rear doors were closed. Gibbs didn't know whether that was a good or a bad sign.

Stan Burley was positioned at the rear of the ambulance with Jenny Shepard, and an FBI agent was at the front, keeping guard on Senior. They were watching with interest as Fornell escorted a gurney with a body bag strapped to it over to the coroner's wagon. Seeing Gibbs approach, Stan met him and said, "The FBI's removing Dickson's body. At least it was a Feeb who found his head and had to bag it. Oh, and I locked the rifle you used in the NCIS truck, to hand over to IA later. I'll put the transfer paperwork on your desk as soon as I've completed it."

More concerned with the living than the dead, Gibbs indicated the closed doors of the ambulance. "What's going on?"

Burley said helpfully, "All I know is that Tony's in there with his dad. And a medic. He was working on Mr. DiNozzo."

It looked like Fornell had left Tony alone with his father, which mightily pissed Gibbs off. "Yeah, well, his time's up," he muttered, as he swung open of one of the rear doors of the ambulance, determined to get Tony out of there right away.

Two sets of DiNozzo eyes turned towards Gibbs, startled by his sudden appearance. He'd interrupted their conversation, that much was clear. They were sitting opposite each other, Senior on a gurney, raised almost to a sitting position, shirt open with wires attached to his chest, his left arm in a sling. Tony was seated on a built-in bench, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his thighs, his hands clasped together. Although Tony's expression was neutral, his body language told Gibbs that he was tense and more than a bit angry. That seemed par for the course whenever Tony and his dad got within shouting distance of each other.

There was a third man in the far end of the vehicle, a medic. He had just finished working on Senior and was putting away his supplies. It was too close quarters for a fourth person in the back of the ambulance, so Gibbs stood in the doorway.

What was most disturbing to Gibbs was that Senior was smiling as if he'd just won some big prize. Gibbs' stomach clenched and his immediate thought was that somehow Senior had said something to change Tony's mind, that the bastard had stolen Tony away from him, had twisted his arm, coerced or blackmailed him into going with him. Why else would Senior look so fucking pleased with himself?

Gibbs focused on Tony, who stared back at him mutely, eyes wide. He didn't look afraid, more disconcerted, as if he didn't like Gibbs being there.

Senior said in a casual drawl, "Ah, Agent Gibbs, just in time to say goodbye to Tony."

"Like hell! He won't go anywhere with you, will you, Tony?" Gibbs didn't take his eyes off Tony, and he watched, with alarm, as Tony's eyes flickered with uncertainty and then, even worse, with an unmistakable cloud guilt. Tony's lips parted but he didn't say anything. Was it Gibbs' imagination that he was saying no, contradicting his father's claim?

The EMT, unaware of the battle of wills going on in the back of his ambulance, told Senior that he'd be right back and then they'd get him to the hospital to have his arm x-rayed. "Have to get the FBI to sign off on this," he said apologetically, holding up a clipboard.

As soon as the medic was out of earshot, Gibbs growled, "You're out of your mind, DiNozzo."

Senior never even looked at his son. It was as if he was unimportant, except in his role as a pawn. Instead, he kept his eyes locked on Gibbs, drinking in his emotions, smiling when he announced, "We've made up our differences, and now my boy understands that his proper place is by my side, same as it has always been. Junior is coming with me. Isn't that right, son?"

Tony flinched but didn't deny his father's words. He glared at his father and said tersely, "Remember, we have a deal, Dad."

Gibbs dragged his eyes away from Tony to look at DiNozzo Sr. The man was battered, bruised, and had had cuts and abrasions on his face, some of them new. His left arm was bound up, and he must have been in pain, yet Senior had an air of excitement about him. He's getting off on this, thought Gibbs. He thinks he's won. He's enjoying the fucking moment. "You don't care about Tony," Gibbs said aloud, before he could stop himself, knowing it was futile to try to reason with the man. "You can't."

_You can't possibly care about him like I do. You can't love him and want him so damned much your heart aches just thinking about his past and everything he's gone through. You can't be worrying about his future, wanting it to as bright as it can be, all the time wondering if you have a place in that future by his side, or if  – when – he's going to figure out that he needs to spread his wings and make a life for himself, one that doesn't include you. And you…you can't own him, can't tell him what to do, can't have him._

 "You can't," Gibbs said again, louder, gripping the cane in his hand, wanting nothing better than to use it as a weapon against Tony's father.

"Oh, but I can," retorted Senior, his eyes narrowing. "Tony will obey me, or else….Well, let's just say that he knows what the consequences are."

"Dad!"

"Shut up, Junior. I'm not finished," said Senior, shifting his weight on the gurney.

That was when Gibbs saw a backpack lying on the gurney at Senior's side. It was _his_. How did he get hold of it? Damn, he remembered; he had shown Senior the tapes, taken them out of the bag, and then…he must have put the bag down, on the bar, and he left it there when he ran out to get a sniper rifle.

Senior's eyes followed the direction of Gibbs' gaze, and he smiled broadly, showing his fine, white teeth. "Now, I will bet that you were going to return these to me, like the fine, upstanding federal agent that you are," he said, voice dripping with sarcasm. "They're my property. I set the video system up; it was all my idea, and then Harding stole them from me. He said he didn't like me watching them, that they were old news."

Gibbs snorted. "So now you plan to get all cozy by the fireside and watch your triple-x home movies, DiNozzo? You like to relive the good old days, seeing him whip you, torture you just like he did to all those boys that came after you? You get off on knowing how many innocents he murdered?"

Far from being upset, Senior appeared amused by Gibbs' words. "I wouldn't want these video tapes to fall into the wrong hands, Agent Gibbs, nor would the other men who appear on them, as I'm sure you can imagine."

What other men? Shit, hadn't Chen watched all the footage on the tapes? Or had the quality been so bad the forensic scientist couldn’t tell that there had been more than two men involved in the brutal sex scenes? Gibbs tried to suppress his reaction to the news that other men appeared on the tapes, but Senior must have seen his moment of uncertainty.

Senior chuckled and said, "Oh, so you didn't watch them to the end? Allow me to assure you that these men, who were, at the time, no more than boys, will do everything in their power to prevent these tapes from coming to light. One is a Presidential hopeful, now that our dearly departed Senator Kingston Harding is no longer in the running. The others are all men of power now, and they would hate for anyone to know of their youthful indiscretions, they're connection with a serial killer."

For a minute Gibbs couldn’t react, and then he smiled, and slowly he began to laugh, and as his laughter grew louder, Senior's smile faded and was replaced by doubt. Shaking his head, Gibbs said, "You really must think I'm a dumb cop, DiNozzo. Sorry to disappoint you, but those tapes are blank. Stand-ins I grabbed on my way out."

"You're bluffing! They can't be," Senior said angrily. He sat up straight and winced, and when it became apparent that Gibbs was telling the truth, Senior visibly deflated and sank back against the bedding.

Gibbs leaned against the open doorway and lifted one shoulder in a casual shrug. He kept his eyes on Senior but he could tell that Tony was looking at him intently. "You know how lab techs are, DiNozzo, sticklers about protocol and procedure. Chen wouldn’t let me have the real tapes, which were pretty grainy, like you say. Of course I recognized your sorry ass right away as the one being whipped. It didn't look like you were having as good a time as Harding was. That gag must have put a crimp on your style. It must have been a real blow to your ego when he bypassed you for all those younger men, huh? You were relieved, though, that he didn't kill you. He didn't get in that deep until later on, when you were both older, and by then you didn't mean enough to him to warrant being killed as some kind of path to enlightenment."

"You'll never understand what we meant to each other," Senior spat, his face reddening.

"Anyway," said Gibbs, continuing as if Senior hadn't spoken, "I grabbed a set of blank tapes, dressed them up with some evidence labels and brought them along with me, just in case I needed a little leverage."

Senior stared at Gibbs and then suddenly threw his head back in laughter. "Check and checkmate? Well played, Agent Gibbs." He waved one hand in the air to indicate none of this affected him. "Doesn't matter; that's all in the past. As soon as I've given the FBI what they want, I'm a free man, and I'm taking Tony with me. His talents will come in handy wherever I go." Senior called out to the EMT, who had returned and was standing behind Gibbs. "Can we go to the hospital now? I'm not feeling well."

The EMT climbed into the ambulance and gave Senior a quick once-over. "You have to leave now, sir, unless you plan to go with Mr. DiNozzo to the hospital," he said, glancing at Gibbs. "Good to go, Mr. DiNozzo?"

"Yes, and my son, Tony Junior, is coming with me," he said, smiling smoothly at Gibbs.

Gibbs had endured enough of Senior to last a lifetime, so he was more than ready to get out of the way, but not without Tony. "Tony, let's go," Gibbs ordered. The hell with giving Tony any choice in the matter. This was one of those times when he knew best and he wasn't going to take any backtalk. He stepped away from the ambulance, expecting Tony to follow him, to be on his six. The engine started, but Tony didn't get up off his seat. Gibbs held onto the open door and said curtly, "Hey, Tony. Get the hell out of there."

Tony rose and took a step towards the doorway, but Senior reached across the narrow aisle and grasped his son's arm. "Remember what I said, Junior," he warned.

"Dad, please…"

"DiNozzos are not whiners," said Senior. "I will not tolerate–"

"I told you I'd get you the money, but you have to live up to your end of the bargain," said Tony insistently.

"Contracts can be broken," Senior threatened, his grip tightening enough to cause Tony to wince.

"Let go of him, DiNozzo," Gibbs ordered, moving his hand to his holstered gun.

"Money can disappear, Dad," countered Tony between clenched teeth.

Senior leaned towards Tony and said something in such a low tone that Gibbs couldn’t hear what was said, but Tony's reaction was to grow angry. He responded in an equally quiet voice, and whatever it was that he said, his father definitely didn't like it. Tony wrenched his arm out of his father's grip and moved to the rear of the ambulance. He reached for the handle, his eyes locking onto Gibbs', full of remorse. "Sorry, Jethro," he said.

Before Gibbs could prevent it, Tony had pulled the door of the ambulance shut, leaving Gibbs standing alone on the outside. The lights on top of the ambulance began to flash and the vehicle started to move slowly forward. "No! No!" Gibbs yelled, and lurched forward to bang on the rear door with his fist. "Stop!"

Jenny and Burley were at his side, yelling for the ambulance to wait, and Jenny even drew her gun, even though neither of them knew why Gibbs wanted it stopped. The brake lights glowed a bright red when the driver hit the brakes, and as soon as the ambulance came to a standstill, Gibbs tore open the door. He stepped up, reached in, and grabbed hold of a very startled Tony. Gibbs hauled him out of the back of the ambulance. "You are under arrest," Gibbs announced, his voice rough with anger, as he slapped a pair of handcuffs on Tony's wrists and secured them in front of him.

Tony's mouth was open in shock. "What the fuck? Jethro! You've got to be kidding! Undo these things!"

From inside the ambulance, Senior was demanding that Gibbs return Tony, accusing him of kidnapping. Gibbs didn't wait around to hear any more, saying to Burley, "You deal with him. We're out of here." He had better things to do. With one of his hands on the short chain that ran between the handcuffs, and the other using the cane for balance, Gibbs pulled Tony along with him. Behind him, he could hear Fornell, and Mike Franks, too, doing their best to explain to the local LEOs and FBI agents who had come running, that Gibbs really was a federal agent and was not kidnapping the young man.

His adrenaline must have been pumping, because Gibbs managed to drag Tony all the way over to his truck and hardly felt any pain in his leg. While he was searching for his keys, Tony was demanding loudly, "What are the charges? You can't just arrest me! I have rights!"

Finding his keys, Gibbs unlocked the passenger door and ordered, "Get in."

"I am not getting in! You put handcuffs on me, Jethro, and we're not even in bed!"

"I am not in the mood, Tony. Get the hell in the truck!" One thing that Gibbs was glad of – Tony's lack of emotion had flown the coop, and he was currently showing outrage and alarm and a bevy of other reactions. "You gonna fight me every step of the way?" Gibbs demanded, ready to blow his top. "'Cause if you are, let me warn you, you are not going to win! I am tired and my leg hurts like a bitch, and I've had my fucking fill of trying to figure out what the hell is going on with you, so you are going to get in my pickup without saying another fucking word, and we are going home, and after I have myself a drink, you are going to sit down and explain to me exactly what the fuck has been going on! Do I make myself clear?"

After a brief moment of indecision, Tony complied, though as he got in the passenger side, he pointed out, "Do you know there's this little vein in your forehead that throbs when you get mad?"

Gibbs closed his eyes, counted to ten, and took a deep breath. He opened his eyes and said, a little more calmly, "Move over. You're driving."

"But I have cuffs on."

"You can drive just fine with them on." Gibbs got into his truck, groaning when a piercing pain shot through his thigh. "Damn it!"

"You don't have to yell. I have perfectly good hearing, you know," Tony retorted.

Jenny ran up, a suitcase in either hand, and said breathlessly, "Hey, Tony, you left these in my car. What is in them? Geez, and I thought _I_ over-packed."

"Toss them in the back," Gibbs said. He handed her the cane that Franks had loaned him, told her to give it to the boss, and slammed his door shut, having neither the patience nor the time for niceties.

"Toss them gently," pleaded Tony. "My Armani shoes are in there."

Jenny grinned and secured the suitcases in the bed of the truck, then waved good-bye and headed back to where Agent Franks was trying to cover for Gibbs, and was giving an account of the situation to the directors of NCIS and the FBI.

As soon as they were alone, Tony turned to Gibbs and frowned at him. "You need to see a doctor."

"I'll call Ducky. Just drive."

Tony put the keys in the ignition but didn't turn the engine over. He sat, looking at Gibbs, a stubborn expression on his face that told Gibbs he was going to have a fight on his hands. Tony said tenaciously, "You still haven't told me what you're arresting me for, Agent Gibbs."

"Don't need to."

"Yes, you do! I have rights–"

"No you don't."

"I do _so_ have rights and according to the NCIS guidebook–"

"I highly recommend that you take your damned right to remain silent and apply it," Gibbs said, raising his voice.

Tony stared at him and then set his jaw, and Gibbs knew he was in for a heap of trouble. "What are the charges?" Tony asked in a slow, even manner, obviously holding in his temper.

Gibbs sniffed and ran a hand over his mouth. Hell, he didn't have any charges, so he said, "Theft."

Tony raised an eyebrow. "Theft? What did I steal?"

"How about a few million dollars, Tony?"

Tony shifted uneasily in the driver's seat and looked out the windshield for a moment. He turned his head to look Gibbs in the eye and said, "You can't prove it."

"Ya think?" Sounded like Tony was pretty sure, and so far the FBI hadn't located the funds. Gibbs sort of hoped they never did find the missing millions, if Tony had really hidden them, even if he knew it was wrong to feel that way.

"So you don't have any charges," Tony challenged. "Undo these. You have no reason to keep me." He held his hands up and rattled the handcuffs for effect.

"I have a reason," Gibbs retorted.

"And?" Never taking his eyes off Gibbs' face, Tony rested his hands on the steering wheel, and tapped one finger while he waited.

It was Gibbs' turn to look away. He watched the emergency vehicles, the firemen, the FBI, the LEOs, his fellow NCIS agents – and even his director, who now appeared to be quarrelling with the head of the FBI – and all the other people who were out there taking care of business, taking care of each other on this cold night. Everyone came together in an emergency, strangers helping strangers, people doing the right thing just because it was in their nature to do so. Sort of gave him a warm and fuzzy feeling. Without really thinking about it, Gibbs turned towards Tony, slipped his hand behind his neck and drew him close. Their noses touched and Gibbs sensed that Tony was trying not to smile. Gibbs said in a husky voice, "You stole…"

"What did I steal? Tell me," said Tony, his breath soft and warm against Gibbs' lips.

"You stole…you stole my fucking _heart_ , that's what you stole," Gibbs replied, his voice rough, his breath running apace with his heart, which was drumming a fast, urgent beat.

Tony swallowed but he made no move to kiss Gibbs. "And what're you going to do about it, Jethro? You gonna arrest me, keep me handcuffed, chained to the bed? Beat me and fuck me until I scream?"

"Jesus, Tony."

"Tell me, what're you're gonna do?"

"This," whispered Gibbs, pulling Tony close for a hard, hot kiss, sucking on Tony's tongue when he opened his mouth for him, kissing him like there was no going back. When he was finished, and pulled away panting heavily, and Tony was lying limply with his head resting on the headrest, his eyes half-closed, his lips rosy and with a little smile on them, Gibbs put his seatbelt on and said, "Let's get the hell home."

***–***end chapter 69 ***–***


	70. Home Sweet Home

As soon as they'd driven a short distance from the airport, Gibbs instructed Tony to pull over. Once the pickup came to a standstill, Gibbs reached over and unlocked the metal handcuffs restraining Tony's wrists. "Not safe to drive with 'em on," said Gibbs.

Tony sent him an incredulous look and said, "Considering everything we've gone through over the past few days, Jethro, driving with handcuffs is pretty far down on my list of dangerous things to do. Naked bungee jumping from a low-flying helicopter over cacti in the Mojave comes to mind, or climbing Everest without any pitons or a Sherpa guide. Oh yeah, and let's not forget shooting at a Colombian mob boss from on top of a burning tower while airplanes are exploding around us."

Gibbs couldn't help smiling, but as he watched Tony adjusting the sleeves of his expensive suit, it hit him that Tony's wrists were bandaged. Shit, he'd completely forgotten that the skin on Tony's wrists had been rubbed raw from Harding cuffing his hands behind his back. Shit, Tony had never said a word when Gibbs had handcuffed him, and had dragged him across the airport parking lot to his truck. "Damn it, Tony, why didn't you say something?"

Tony followed the direction of Gibbs' eyes and immediately knew what he was referring to. "It's okay," he was quick to say, pulling at his sleeves in an attempt to cover the bandages.

Gibbs shook his head. "No, no it isn't," he said gruffly. He gently took hold of Tony's hands, one at a time, and pushed up his sleeves to see if he'd done any more damage. The bandages wrapped around Tony's wrists were a bit grubby, but there was no blood in sight, and Tony didn't wince or pull away. Gibbs released his hands and asked, "What am I gonna do with you?"

"I told you they're okay," Tony said, with a tentative smile. He wiggled his fingers. "See? No harm done."

There'd been plenty of harm done, by Harding, Torres, and DiNozzo Sr., and Gibbs hoped to hell that they'd seen the last of it. "Yeah. Let's just get home. You okay to drive?"

"Sure am." Tony pulled out onto the road and headed for the entrance to the highway.

Gibbs took a moment to twist in his seat and look back at the airport. Something was still burning; looked like it was the plane. He could see a dark orange glow from the fire and a heavy pall of smoke that rose into the night sky and obliterated the stars, and he was glad to be leaving it behind them.

**–**

As he drove along the highway, Tony talked about TV shows and movies, Di and Charles' breakup, and sports, which led to worrying about the swim meets he'd missed, and wondering whether he'd be able to catch up after missing a week of classes.

Tony's chatter had an anxious edge to it, and Gibbs had a pretty good idea as to why that was. Tony knew that he was going to have to 'fess up about his conversation with his dad in the ambulance. No doubt he wasn't looking forward to it.

Sure enough, after about fifteen minutes, Tony's soliloquy petered out and he looked uneasily at Gibbs. "I guess you want me to explain myself," he said cautiously. Gibbs gave a small snort and Tony continued, "I mean about what I was talking about with my dad–"

Gibbs said curtly, "I know what you mean, Tony."

After swallowing nervously, Tony said, "So, I wanted to say…um, explain…" He cleared his throat and tried again. "See, about my dad–"

Gibbs said firmly, "Tony, we need to talk about this, but it can wait 'til we get home. Now, keep your eyes on the road. After all the crap I've been through the past few days, I do not want to be in a pile-up." The ensuing silence was full of tension but Gibbs didn't so much as look at Tony even though he could feel Tony looking at him. He didn't want to give the young man any encouragement to make excuses for his father.

"Okay, but Jethro? Just so you know, you're not the only one who's been through a lot of crap the past few days."

Tony was right; they'd both been through the wringer during the course of the investigation, but Tony had borne the brunt of it when he was drugged and brutalized by Senator Harding. Gibbs kept his mouth shut and stared out the window. They had some things to sort out but there was no way that he was going to have this conversation with Tony until they were at safe at home.

Tony had endured a lot over the past few days, and was still recovering from his injuries, but he was unnaturally silent while he drove. He was frowning and seemed a hundred miles away. Gibbs furtively eyed the younger man, seeing signs that he was tired, but he was certain that there was something more behind Tony's behavior than being worn out by the day's events. Sure, he'd snapped at Tony, but when had that ever stopped him from talking? Most likely it was a guilty conscience that was weighing him down, for going back to his father after he'd sworn he'd have nothing more to do with him.

Well Tony _should_ be feeling bad, Gibbs thought sourly. It galled him that Tony had made that choice, turning his back on him despite everything they meant to each other.

Tony had a lot to answer for. To start with, he'd gone to the hotel alone, and then he'd asked Jenny Shepard to take him to the airport, putting himself in the path of danger once again. Then there was the way Tony had gotten all cozy with his father, and on top of that, he'd pushed Gibbs out of the ambulance and had slammed the door in his face! What the hell had been going on in Tony's mind? Had he been planning on going with his dad to New York, after all, and had been so afraid of Gibbs' reaction that he'd leave without saying a word? No, Tony would never run out on him.

It had to be Senior's doing.

Tony's father must have forced Tony to go with him. Threats were nothing new to Senior. He would coerce or blackmail his own son to get what he wanted, whether it was to prove to Tony who was in command, or to reclaim the money that Tony had stolen from him.

After fuming for a bit, Gibbs relented. He couldn't blame Tony. After all, DiNozzo Sr. was an experienced manipulator, a man who had clearly shown he had no conscience, a father who was willing to use his own son for any means necessary. There was no doubt that Senior wanted to get his hands on the millions of dollars that he'd earned through illicit and illegal means, the money that Tony had somehow managed to transfer out of his father's reach. If Gibbs was any judge of character, Senior wasn't going anywhere until he got his money back. Apparently Senior hadn't believed Gibbs when he'd told him that he could kiss his money goodbye, that it had ended up in the hands of the FBI.

Just thinking about Senior and his high-handed ways made Gibbs so angry that if he had been within arm's length of Tony's father at that moment, he would have strangled him, and damn the consequences.

Senior kept insinuating himself into Tony's life, trying to claim him, doing his damned best to exploit him. He hadn't backed off even after Gibbs had threatened to kill him if he went anywhere near Tony again. It didn't matter what the bastard wanted, though, because Tony wasn't going anywhere with his father, not so long as Gibbs had anything to say about it.

***–***

Gibbs swore that Tony hit every bump in the road during the forty-minute drive. By the time they took the exit for Arlington, he felt as though his thigh was being jabbed by a hot poker. The shower scene in 'Psycho' came to mind, and he was the one being stabbed in the shower, which was weird enough that he wanted to tell Tony. He'd get a laugh out of it. Gibbs didn't speak up though.

The uneven ride wasn't Tony's fault; he was a good driver and the roads weren't in the best of condition after the winter, but the journey seemed interminable.

Gibbs tried to find a more comfortable position in the passenger seat, which turned out to be impossible. He gasped when he moved his leg the wrong way and a pain shot through it, and when he caught Tony checking him out, Gibbs asked testily, "What?"

Tony looked directly at Gibbs for a long moment, his expression closed-off. "Nothing," he said and gave his full attention to driving once more.

Gibbs didn't think very much of himself for causing Tony to withdraw like that, so he tried to apologize for snapping at him. "Look, Tony–"

"I was only wondering–" said Tony, speaking at the same time.

Gibbs tried to remain patient. "I thought we were gonna talk about this when we got home."

It took so long for Tony to respond that Gibbs went back to staring out the window. He knew better than to get into a quarrel while Tony was at the wheel. Traffic was light at this late hour, once they were off the highway, but as Tony was unfamiliar with the roads, it would be best if he concentrated on his driving.

Gibbs turned his head to look at Tony, and it was apparent from the way his jaw was working that he was going through an inner struggle. Trying to ease things up a little, Gibbs asked, "Maybe you want to slap me on the head for being such an ass?"

Tony glanced at Gibbs and said, somewhat defensively, "I was just wondering if you're going to bite my head off if I say what I want to tell you, but I think that's a given."

As they both knew that Tony was right, Gibbs made a non-committal sound. They were approaching his neighborhood so he directed, "Take a right here. Two blocks, house is on the left."

Tony gripped the wheel and didn't take his eyes off the road ahead when he said abruptly, his voice loud in the small space, "You know, I love you, Jethro. I _do_ , but sometimes I don't _understand_ you. I know that you were pissed at me for talking to my dad, and you probably still are. But why would you kiss me like that, and then get angry with me the next minute? I don't know, maybe I'm too tired to think straight, but I don't understand what's going on."

Is that what he'd been doing? Blowing hot and cold? Yeah, guess he had been pulling Tony around some, but he hadn't been doing it intentionally. Back at the airport, the minute they'd been alone in his truck, Gibbs' need to physically connect with Tony had been so strong that his self-restraint had gone out the window. Not something that happened often, luckily, because he did not like losing control. Could have deadly consequences in his job, too. After allowing his emotions to get the better of him, Gibbs had been angry with himself. Unfortunately, that anger had spilled over and he'd directed it at Tony without meaning to. "I wasn't angry with you, Tony."

"Didn't seem that way," Tony said warily.

Gibbs explained, "I was pissed about your father, about you going to him. I didn't know what he was up to, but I wanted you away from him and out of danger. That's why I handcuffed you and dragged you to my truck. I didn't plan on..."

He hadn't planned on kissing Tony. He hadn't planned on kissing him when he met him the first time by the pool on DiNozzo's Long Island estate, either. And Gibbs hadn't planned on falling for someone who was not only too young, but who was the same sex as he was. He hadn't planned on rescuing Tony and spending the weekend with him, even if they'd had some pretty incredible times together. Gibbs hadn't expected Tony to jump feet first into danger and nearly getting himself killed a couple of times, nor had he foreseen the way he'd had to fight Tony's father for possession of him every step of the way. And it certainly hadn't been in Gibbs' plans to have to deal with the ups and downs of Tony's emotions, or to become deeply involved with him – so damned fast.

Gibbs hadn't planned on Tony, _period_ , but now Tony was so deeply embedded in his life that there was no going back. Not that Gibbs _wanted_ to go back, not at all. They were way past the point of no return. It was just that he wasn't at all prepared for whatever lay in their future. He was concerned about how their relationship was going to affect his work and his way of life, about the risks involved to both of them. He was also scared about being responsible for another human being once again, and was frightened right down to his boots at the possibility that he would lose Tony when the young man finally came to his senses and saw all the obstacles in their way – age difference and geographical distance, and the demands and strictures of Gibbs' career, not to mention the same-sex thing.

Their personalities couldn't be more different. They had little in common besides the fact that they were both men. And there was the way that Tony drove him crazy with his incessant talk, his movie references, his assumption that Gibbs knew what he was chattering about all the time – which he didn't. Plus there was Tony's practice of asking for help with one breath, yet turning around and jumping into dangerous situations with no damned thought about the consequences of his actions. None at all.

"Jethro?" Tony broke into Gibbs' thoughts, prompting, "You didn't plan on what? Didn't plan on kissing me?"

Gibbs admitted, "No, I didn't plan on kissing you. It just…happened. Hell, I didn't _plan_ on any of this. I don't know which way is up half the time since I met you, Tony."

"Seems like you've handled yourself pretty well so far," Tony said with a crooked smile. "I certainly don't have anything to complain about. You know which way is up when we're making love. Remember at the drive-in, having sex in this truck?"

Gibbs shook his head impatiently. "You don't get it. I'm not that kind of guy, Tony. I'm straightforward, by the book, which is why I fit in just fine with the military, but everything's gone haywire. I didn't plan this to happen to my life. Nothing's normal about it any more. Nothing's normal about _this_." He made a motion with his hand, from himself to Tony and back, frustrated that he couldn't seem to find the right words.

Gibbs sighed. He may as well just admit it – it made no difference what he'd planned, or how he was worried about fucking up this crazy thing that they had between them, because nothing was going to change the fact that he was in love with Tony. Gibbs knew in his heart that his future lay with him but it was so damned hard to say so. This was the kind of love that lasted a lifetime, he was certain, and he knew how precious it was because he'd experienced it once before, with his wife.

The pickup truck slowed down as Tony stared at Gibbs, before he focused on the road again.

Tony looked so stricken that Gibbs wished he'd damned well bitten his tongue and kept his thoughts to himself, like he'd planned. "Here," Gibbs said, indicating they'd arrived at his house, but Tony was already pulling into the driveway.

Tony parked Gibbs' pickup halfway up the drive, within feet of the back door, and killed the engine. He released the clasp on his seatbelt and turned in his seat so he could look at Gibbs. "So, tell me, what is _normal_ , Jethro? I mean, take you, for instance. You act and look like a clean-cut, do-the-right-thing, straight-up Marine, with a steady government job, and a house in the 'burbs that comes with a nice little white picket fence. You might be Mr. Spit-and-polish on the outside, but we both know you're not exactly what you make yourself out to be, don't we?"

Gibbs started to speak but Tony held up a hand and assured him, "It's okay though, you're not alone in this. Take me, for example. At Ohio State, I'm the life of the party; all the chicks love me. I'm Tony DiNozzo, Sex Machine, all-round party animal and beer pong champion down at the Rathskeller. I mean, I'm a jock, on every team. I'm going into pro ball, for Chrissake. You can't get much more hetero than that," he said with a strained laugh. "The thing is, nobody can see past my front. They have no clue that I'm not _normal_ , that I've been sucking cock since I was fourteen, that my father and his friends have fucked me over, every way that is humanly possible, and that I've lied so much that sometimes I can barely remember what the truth is. But I've learned to hide all that from the outside world, and I'm so fucking good at my cover, at being _normal_ , that half the time I believe it myself. So if you want normal, I can be normal."

Gibbs rubbed his forehead. He hated hearing Tony talk like this, all tough and in-your-face just like the kid he'd interrogated, the one who'd lied about his father forcing him to call Gibbs in the first place. It was all too much. "You got a point, Tony?"

Tony looked at him, his eyes dark and inscrutable in the cab of the dimly lit truck, and for a moment Gibbs thought that Tony just might hate him.

"Sure, I've got a point, Jethro," said Tony, his tone mocking. "I want to know if this 'not normal' thing that we've had going on for the past few days is your way of acting out your gay fantasies. You know, dipping your toes in the water, testing it's not too hot before you dive in the deep end? Maybe it's the homosexual version of 'Death Takes a Holiday'. You know, where Death comes down to earth to play with the mortals, knowing all the time he has to go back."

"Tony, don't–"

Tony moved a little closer to Gibbs and said harshly, "You say to yourself, it's a little bit of harmless exploration. Doesn't mean a thing, just a touch of mid-life crazy. You get to fuck Tony Jr., have some fun before you go back to being straight and narrow. Hey, I know! Maybe you should ask that lady Joan to marry you. After all, she seemed so nice and _normal_."

"Tony, stop it," Gibbs ground out in warning.

But Tony continued as if he hadn't heard Gibbs speak. "Because if you're questioning what we've been doing, what we've had together, what we fucking _mean_ to each other, and if you can sit there and say we're _not normal_ , like it's some kind of contagious disease, then we've got a big problem, Jethro." Tony took a breath and his eyes widened with sudden realization. "Or…is this because getting your rocks off with me has made you realize that you really _are_ an ass-fucking queer, and your whole life has been a lie, and you'll probably lose your damned career over this, and _that's_ what scares the shit out of you?"

Jesus, so much for not talking things over. Upset by the accusations, and hating that Tony was right, because he _was_ scared – though not for the reasons Tony had cited – Gibbs searched desperately for some sort of adequate response. What came out of his mouth was, "You're calling me an _ass-fucking queer_ , Tony?"

Tony gave a short laugh and slumped against the driver's side door, the fight gone out of him. He ran a hand through his hair and said abruptly, "Okay, that wasn't very nice to say, but–"

"Enough," Gibbs interrupted loudly, raising his hands. "We are going to take this inside. We need to calm down, and I need something to drink." He wondered if there was any bourbon in the kitchen or if he'd have to send Tony down to the basement to fetch him the bottle that currently lived on the shelf above his workbench, behind the glass jars full of galvanized nails.

Tony exhaled and slouched in his seat. "Sure. Sure, Jethro."

"And Tony?"

"Yes, Jethro?" Tony replied, in a weary voice.

"I know you've had a rough time, and we're both tired, and tempers flare, but you have _really_ missed the boat with all of this," Gibbs admonished. "This isn't some kind of experimental fling for me, so get that out of your head right now. If you knew anything about me, you'd know I play for keeps. You mean more to me any day than my damned career."

Tony stared at Gibbs and blinked a few times as if trying to wrap his mind around what he'd just said. "You mean that?" he murmured, sounding a bit lost. "I guess this would be a good time to apologize, huh? I'm sorry. I am."

Gibbs squeezed the back of Tony's neck, touching him for the first time since they'd got in the truck and he'd made his move on Tony. "Yeah, I mean every word of it. I know you're sorry, and I love you, Tony, so stop acting like an asshole and help me into the damned house."

"On it, Jethro," Tony said with a hint of a smile. He looked past Gibbs and sat up straight, suddenly alert. "Hey, you expecting somebody?"

Gibbs instinctively went for his handgun, but he eased up when he saw who it was. "Oh hell, looks like someone called Ducky," he groaned.

The ME had parked his Morgan roadster in front of the house and approached the pickup, carrying his medical bag.

Tony got out of the truck and raised his hand in greeting. "Wow, a house call, Dr. Mallard? I thought they were only in the movies, like Jack Kruschen in 'The Apartment.' You ever see that? He's comes over to pump Shirley MacLaine's stomach when she tries to commit suicide."

"Yes, I have seen it, and I applaud the performances, though I found the film to be quite sad," Ducky replied.

Tony looked at him askance. "Really? It's my favorite Christmas movie. After 'It's a Wonderful Life,' of course."

Ducky raised his eyebrows but made no further comment about Tony's choice of holiday movies. "I am most glad to see that you are in fine fettle, Anthony, especially after the escapades that you have been up to with Jethro. And how is he, if I may ask?" He followed Tony to the passenger side of the pickup, opened the door and peered at Gibbs. "Oh dear, it appears that Special Agent Franks was correct in his assessment. You most certainly are in need of my services."

"I ain't dead _yet_ , Ducky," Gibbs drawled. "Better not be a liver probe in that bag of yours."

"I was referring to my medical services, my dear man," said Ducky. "I am licensed to work with live patients, as you very well know. Let's get you inside."

When Gibbs didn't move, Tony whispered to him, "You okay to walk?"

Gibbs made a sound that was supposed to mean 'yes' but came out more like a grunt of pain. He was ready for some aspirin, a hot shower and bed, but at this point he wasn't sure that he could manage to even walk up to his front door. "Been worse," he said, which did nothing to alleviate Tony's concern.

"Anthony, if you would be so good as to go ahead and turn on the lights," the ME suggested, "I will assist Jethro inside."

"I can manage," Gibbs said.

Ducky snorted in a gentlemanly fashion. "You will pardon me if I say that I highly doubt that, Jethro."

"I can help him, Ducky," Tony offered, reluctant to leave Gibbs' side.

Ducky said, "We need the lights turned on, Anthony. Go ahead, and please take my bag." He handed it to Tony and asked Gibbs, "Keys to the house?"

Gibbs was planning to refuse any assistance, on principle, but one look at Ducky's unyielding expression put an end that idea. "Pretty sure it's unlocked," he said with a sigh. They'd rushed out days ago, early on Sunday morning when Franks had phoned Gibbs to come into work straight away, and to bring Tony with him. It seemed like it was a month ago even though today was only Wednesday. He glanced at his watch. Correction, Thursday – it was already after midnight.

Tony ran to the house, flipped the lights on, and came back in a jiffy, angling past Ducky to offer Gibbs a hand.

Gibbs decided it wasn't worth fighting both of them, so he carefully swung his legs out and slid his right arm across Tony's shoulders. Ducky was at his other side, and between them they got Gibbs into the house and up to his bedroom.

Tony hovered over Gibbs until he was safely seated on his bed. Even though he was breathing heavily from the exertion of climbing the stairs and from the pain in his leg, Gibbs assured both Tony and Ducky that he was fine. Their similar looks of disbelief and they way they both crossed their arms over their chests was almost comical.

Gibbs was determined that the moment Ducky was gone, he was going to have it out with Tony. He had to hear the truth about what was going on with Tony's father before they could move ahead. And if Tony's recent speech was any indicator, Gibbs was going to have to make a declaration of his intent in no uncertain terms. Why was everything so difficult where Tony was concerned, he'd like to know?

"Now, Jethro, let's have a look at that leg of yours," said Ducky.

***–*** end chapter 70 ***–***


	71. To Have and to Hold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The soap mentioned here is based upon J.R. Liggett's old-fashioned soap/shampoo, though I am sure that its scent is much more pleasant than I make it out to be in my story.

Gibbs insisted on taking a shower before Ducky checked him out, and the steaming hot water that coursed over his sore muscles was exactly what he needed. He washed the accumulation of grime and soot off his body, and rinsed his hair, avoiding the gash on the back of his head. By the time he stepped out of the shower, Gibbs felt better than he had since…well, since the last time he'd had sex with Tony, on the roof of the control tower. Nothing like being under fire to get him horny, he thought with a grin.

His bad leg hurt like hell, but if he moved slowly he could hobble along. Earlier, when he'd removed the bandage before stepping in the shower, the appearance of the red and puffy wound on his thigh was not encouraging. He had a feeling that Ducky was going to send him straight to the hospital once he had a look at it, but Gibbs planned to do everything in his power to avoid a trip to the ER.

He dried himself off, and was sitting on the edge of his bed, having just pulled on a clean t-shirt and boxers, when Ducky knocked lightly at the bedroom door. Gibbs said, "Come in," and the ME entered, his medical bag in hand, ushering Tony ahead of him.

Tony had left his suit jacket somewhere, and his shoes and socks as well. His white dress shirt was unbuttoned and hanging open to show a liberal amount of skin. The shirtsleeves were rolled up, revealing his chafed wrists, but it was Tony's hairy forearms that caught Gibbs' interest. Other than the thick, brown hair on his head, his forearms were the only part of his body that he didn't shave, apparently, and seeing them so exposed fascinated Gibbs, to the point of arousal.

Tony immediately noticed the way that Gibbs was lusting after him, and his gaze dropped down to Gibbs' crotch. He smiled knowingly at the bulge in Gibbs' boxer shorts and was about to say something when he saw the uncovered wound on his thigh. Tony's face fell and he asked, "Jethro?"

Gibbs was unsure whether he should cover his groin or the wound on his leg, which was pretty ugly and was obviously upsetting Tony. In the end he hid neither. He simply assured Tony, "I'm gonna be fine. Ducky'll fix me up as soon as you're in the shower." Still, Tony hesitated, so Gibbs said encouragingly, "Go on, bathroom's all yours."

Tony looked hard at Gibbs, and then seemed to accept that he really was okay. He went to the nightstand at Gibbs' side of the bed, and dropped his pair of heavy gold cufflinks in a dish containing change and other small items that Gibbs dumped out of his trouser pockets every night.

Gibbs watched Tony attentively. He hadn't moved away from where he stood next to the nightstand, land was looking down at his cufflinks, his long eyelashes casting shadows on his pale cheeks, but it was obvious he wasn't really seeing them. Without raising his eyes, Tony turned to go to the bathroom, purposely brushing his leg against Gibbs' bare knee as he passed. That casual, and all-too brief moment of contact was enough to make Gibbs suck in a breath, and he whispered, "Hurry up in there." Tony hesitated only long enough to nod.

Ducky began taking medical supplies out of his bag, setting them on Gibbs' bed. "Remember, Anthony, be gentle with those burns, and pat yourself dry. I will leave the burn ointment here for you," he said, placing a tube on the nightstand.

"Thanks, Doc." Tony gave Ducky a subdued smile and went into the bathroom, leaving the door ajar. Not a minute later Tony called out, his voice echoing in the shower stall, "Hey, where's the shampoo?"

"Use the soap," Gibbs called in reply.

Tony asked, "On my hair?" The water started to run and there was an extended silence until Tony said, in a disgusted tone, "What is _in_ this stuff? Smells like…wet rope."

Gibbs raised his voice so Tony would be able to hear him over the shower. "It's made with hemp." A few years ago, Shannon had given him some of the old-fashioned bar shampoo as a joke. From then on, Gibbs had picked some up whenever he saw it in the store because he liked its good lather and mild scent. 

"Where'd you buy this stuff? The hardware store?" shouted Tony.

"Yeah, how'd you know? Now shut up and come out here as soon as you've finished wasting my hot water," Gibbs ordered loudly. To Ducky, he asked in a soft voice, "How is he, really?"

Smiling at the exchange between the two men, Ducky replied, "Anthony is doing quite well. He appears to be relatively unscathed after your escapades at the airport. It is a miracle that the two of you didn't suffer more serious injuries." Ducky looked briefly in the direction of the bathroom and commented, "Quite a turnaround from the past couple of days, when he seemed rather…fragile, if I may say so."

"Yeah, well you should've seen him at the airport," Gibbs told Ducky. "He finally had a chance to confront his dad. Tony got a lot off his chest, something he really needed to do." It had been a long time in coming, Tony standing up to his father, which was why it irked Gibbs so much that Tony had gone back on his pledge to never talk to his old man again. "Tony was fine when we were up in the control tower. He was my spotter. Did a good job."

"Perhaps the activity was what he needed then. It would have left him no time for brooding. Now, why don't you sit back and I will see what damage you have managed to do to yourself this time." Ducky adjusted his eyeglasses and peered at Gibbs' leg.

Gibbs did as he was told and gritted his teeth while Ducky tutted over his injured leg and poked around a bit, then started to apply some antiseptic. Gibbs' thigh was definitely swollen and the edges of the wound didn't look very good, even to his untrained eye, but at least the sutures were intact. Ducky swabbed a particularly sensitive spot and Gibbs said, "Ow," loudly and glared at him.

"You really should have your leg seen to, at the hospital, Jethro," said Ducky.

"I am _not_ leaving," Gibbs countered.

"This is very serious, Jethro. Apart from signs of infection, you may have torn the muscle and–"

"I am not going anywhere, not tonight," Gibbs said firmly. "Tony needs me. Look, I'm not gonna sit in a waiting room for four hours only to have them send me home with a scrip for antibiotics, which I already have, and with instructions to keep it elevated, which I plan to do anyway."

Ducky busied himself taking Gibbs' blood pressure and his temperature, and after frowning at him for a length of time, he gave a reluctant nod. "Perhaps it can wait until tomorrow, but if you experience severe pain, numbness, or–"

"I know the drill, Duck," said Gibbs, relieved.

"Yes, but will you heed it? Gangrene is such an interesting condition, and I've always wanted to study it up close, with a live patient, " Ducky mused. "I seem to recall a limerick. Now how did it go? Ah, yes. 'There was an old man named Greg, who came down with gangrene on his leg…'"

"Gee, thanks, Duck," said Gibbs, rolling his eyes.

Ducky huffed, "You won't be thanking me if your leg gives way and you take a tumble."

"Tony'll help me get around."

"Hmmm," Ducky said disapprovingly. "Since you seem adamant about remaining here, Jethro, I should tell you that I took the liberty of bringing both of your overnight bags with me, which you left at my house. They are in my Morgan, and I shall fetch them before I leave. You must take your antibiotics, and I am sure that Anthony will be extremely happy to be reunited with his herbal shampoo and other necessities."

"Thanks, Ducky, for coming out in the middle of the night, and for taking care of Tony," Gibbs said sincerely, knowing that the dedicated ME was one in a million.

Ducky gave a nod, obviously pleased. "Although it is always a pleasure to have house guests, I know that you will be far more comfortable resting in your own home, Jethro. By the way, Mother was quite taken with young Anthony. She was speaking in Italian throughout supper, and reminiscing about a trip we took with my father some years ago. Ah, the sights and smells of Venice…such beauty in the midst of decay…"

Ducky chatted about his experiences in Italy while he wrapped Gibbs' thigh in a heavy bandage and taped it securely in place. He then had a look at the gash on the back of Gibbs' head and pronounced it to be superficial. After cleaning the wound, the ME applied antiseptic to it, and topped it off with a large band-aid. "There, that should stay adhered until the morning. Good thing your hair is so short at the back," Ducky observed. Gibbs' right forearm received similar treatment, and Ducky bandaged it with extra gauze to cushion the wound. "Your arm appears to be healing well. No pain?"

Gibbs shook his head and made a fist to prove his arm was okay.

"Headache?"

"Not any more."

Ducky looked at Gibbs, his gray eyes stern. "No activity any more strenuous than walking to the lavatory. Now, I mean it, Jethro. Your body has still not recovered from the blood loss you sustained a few days ago, and you need to rest that leg. You must stay in bed tomorrow. I'll be checking on you." He glanced towards the bathroom door and back at Gibbs. "Anthony could do with a good night's sleep, too."

So Gibbs gave in, and only after he had agreed to behave and stay in bed, did Ducky finally leave.

***–***

Tony came out of the bathroom, hair damp, a towel wrapped loosely around his waist. Picking up the tube that Ducky had left for him from the nightstand, he squeezed out some ointment and gingerly applied it on the burns on his chest. "Ducky gone?" Tony asked without looking up from his task.

Gibbs was sitting up in bed, his back against the headboard with a couple of pillows behind him, and his right leg propped up on an extra pillow. His dick perked up with interest at the sight of Tony's bare chest, and it hardened even more when the edges of Tony's towel gaped and Gibbs caught a glimpse of the darker-hued skin of Tony's scrotum.

"Jethro?"

"Huh? Oh, Ducky. Yeah, he just left." Great, all it took was a bit of skin, and he forgot how to talk. Gibbs cleared his throat and said, with more clarity, "He left some first-aid stuff on the bureau, and I have to bandage your wrists when you're done there. Your overnight bag is by the door."

Tony glanced at his duffel bag and went back to his first-aid. "That's good because I need some real shampoo. I use American Male Herbal Shampoo, with aloe vera, and caffeine for strengthening your hair. You should try it," he said earnestly, sounding like a pitchman for the product.

"Caffeine's always good," Gibbs said absently as he surreptitiously inspected Tony's body. He didn't see any new bruises marring Tony's smooth skin, which was good because he'd already had his fair share of injuries. With his hair shorn above one ear, revealing the line of black stitches, and an array of colorful bruises and scrapes all over his body, Tony looked more like a street fighter than a college student. Even though he was somewhat battered, Tony was moving around as if unaware of his injuries.

Maybe Tony had a high threshold of pain, thought Gibbs. And then it hit him, with a sickening blow, that Tony had probably become desensitized to pain, or at least had learned how to cope with it, after years of abuse.

Unaware of Gibbs' interest in him, Tony concentrated on dabbing the ointment on the circular marks burned into his skin. Suddenly he sucked in a sharp breath and quickly pulled back his hand. "Shit!"

Gibbs winced in sympathy. "You want Tylenol? There's some in my medicine cabinet."

Tony shook his head and went back to applying the ointment. "Nah, it's okay, they only hurt when I touch 'em. This stuff Ducky gave me helps," he said. When he was finished, he carefully stuck large round band-aids over the burns on his chest and ribs. With his fingertips, Tony lightly touched one of the band-aids adhered to his breast, barely an inch away from a nipple, and looked unhappy. "Man, this sucks. I can't go back on the swim team looking like this. They'll think I'm into self-mutilation, or that an alien life form has been sucking on my chest." He shrugged, not meeting Gibbs' eyes. "I guess it's not a big deal. There are only a couple more meets left, anyway."

"Next season then," said Gibbs, trying to sound positive. "You're on the basketball team, right?"

Tony nodded but still seemed downcast. "Yeah, point guard. There's still the locker room problem."

He'll always carry scars to remind him about what happened, thought Gibbs, and his hatred for Harding and Senior, and for Alonzo Torres – for what they'd done to Tony – burned with a blinding intensity. He'd already killed two out of the three men, but he'd take great pleasure in killing them again. Gibbs took a couple of deep breaths and worked hard to regain his composure. It wouldn’t do for Tony to see him like this, so angry.

Tony scooped up the wrappings from the band-aids and threw them in the wastebasket by the bed, saying, "I'm gonna go and get my big bags out of your truck before someone steals my Armani–" He looked up at Gibbs and froze in mid-sentence. Apparently Gibbs hadn't been very adept at hiding his anger, because Tony stepped back quickly, his eyes wide.

Gibbs reached out and deftly caught Tony's hand. He said, in a gentle, even tone, "Hey, it's all right. It's all right, Tony. I'm angry at _them_. At them, for hurting you." Gibbs kept his eyes focused on Tony's, assuring him that he'd never hurt him. As soon as he saw that Tony accepted what he was saying, and felt him relax a little, Gibbs slowly pulled Tony close until his thighs were flush with the mattress. "I didn't mean to scare you," Gibbs said, then brought Tony's hand to his mouth and kissed the palm, and then a spot on the inside of his wrist that hadn't been damaged by the cuffs, and he wondered how anyone could have purposely hurt this sensitive young man.

"I'm not scared. Sorta overreacted," said Tony. He tentatively reached out and ran his fingers through Gibbs' hair, looking it over appreciatively. "I like your hair cut like this. People can tell you're a Marine at a glance. Did you get it cut at Floyd's Barber Shop in Mayberry?" he asked with a laugh.

"Do it myself," said Gibbs. He let his forehead rest on Tony's shoulder, and inhaled his clean smell while Tony continued to comb his fingers through his hair. "Mmm, nice," Gibbs mumbled.

"You like this?" Tony asked.

"Yeah, I do, but I meant you smell nice."

Tony made a show of sniffing the air. "I do?"

Gibbs nuzzled Tony's neck and licked behind his ear. "Mmm. You smell like wet rope."

Tony smacked Gibbs lightly on the shoulder. "And whose fault is that?"

"Hey, I like the smell of wet rope. Reminds me of being at sea." Gibbs' eyes drifted closed, enjoying the sensation of Tony's hand sliding slowly up and down his neck, massaging his muscles. He groaned when Tony's fingers applied pressure to a tender spot at the junction of his neck and shoulder. "Feels so good," he murmured.

"I like making you feel good," Tony said softly, hands expertly plying Gibbs' shoulder muscles.

Gibbs raised his head to look at Tony, and was fascinated by the expression on his face. His tongue, pink and wet, slipped across his bottom lip, and his eyes were half-closed as if he were concentrating on something very important. A rush of heat ran straight to Gibbs' cock, and his mouth went dry. He was overwhelmed by the desire to investigate every inch of Tony's skin, to lick and kiss his way down Tony's smooth stomach to his hairless groin, to lip at the loose skin of his sac, and to take his soft cock between his lips and suck on it until it hardened and filled up his mouth. Gibbs wanted to see Tony writhe beneath him, eyes full of longing as he begged for Gibbs to fuck him harder. He wanted to drink in, to _feel_ Tony's look of pained ecstasy when he stiffened, eyes widening with surprise, and came in long, hot spurts of semen across his belly before relaxing into a boneless state of bliss.

Handicapped by his painful leg, and unable to move around much, Gibbs searched for a solution. His leg might be out of commission but there was nothing wrong with the rest of him. "Come 'ere, you," said Gibbs, wrapping his arms around Tony and pulling him so he fell onto his chest.

Tony steadied himself with one foot on the floor, doing his best to avoid Gibbs' injured leg. He gave Gibbs a bear hug and looked at him expectantly, apparently waiting for him to make the next move.

Gibbs paused for a moment to make sure that Tony was all right with this. Sure, they'd fucked on the roof of the tower at the airport, but this different. It was about love and trust, about connecting on a whole new level. Gibbs needn't have worried. From the look of Tony's dark eyes, and the flush that rose from his neck to his cheeks, it was obvious that he was receptive to whatever Gibbs had in mind. He needed to hear it from Tony's lips, though. "Tony, you sure you want to do this?"

"You're asking me that?" Tony asked incredulously. "I want you so bad, can't you tell?"

It took a bit of effort to breathe with Tony sprawled crookedly across his chest, but Gibbs wasn't about to complain, especially when he felt Tony's arousal prodding at his hip. Gibbs grinned. "Yeah, I can tell."

Tony pulled Gibbs head down and kissed him, slowly and possessively. Gibbs groaned with pleasure, and his mouth opened to welcome Tony's kiss, his hands splaying across Tony's ass. Tony touched Gibbs' jaw, tilting his head to one side to deepen the kiss.

It was a little awkward, being pressed against the headboard with his neck at an odd angle, and Gibbs tried to shimmy down, but he couldn’t get very far with Tony all over him.

Tony pulled back and saw Gibbs was uncomfortable. "Hang on, I'll take care of it." Getting off the bed, Tony tugged at Gibbs's hips until he was horizontal, with the pillow in place under his right knee. Tony gave a satisfied smile. "That's better," he said and leaned over Gibbs, smiling, and gave him a slow, thorough kiss that ended in a hum. "Yeah, much better," Tony murmured with a smile.

Unable to resist him, Gibbs drew Tony down for another kiss. He wondered why Tony's kisses aroused him so much more than any of the women he'd dated recently. It had nothing to do with gender, he realized. These kisses were hot and exciting because they were Tony's kisses, because he loved Tony _and_ all his idiosyncrasies, not _despite_ them. He loved Tony's strong, capable hands, too, and his incredible mouth, and the way Tony made those small sounds of encouragement in the back of his throat, the ones that drove him crazy. And there was the way they fit together, two solid bodies moving with sinuous grace, made for each other.

He also liked that Tony was being somewhat aggressive, and that the younger man wasn't afraid to be forceful when he used his weight to pin Gibbs down, and to dig his fingers into his hipbones hard enough to cause bruises. If Tony needed to be in control, then that was something Gibbs would gladly allow – for now, anyway. Besides, it was turning him on, being held in place, the recipient of all of Tony's attention.

The things that Tony knew how to do with his mouth had Gibbs reeling – the way he slid his tongue in long, lazy strokes across the roof of his mouth – had Gibbs moaning and clutching at Tony's shoulders like he was afraid he'd get away. Gibbs was fast becoming lost. Tony's lithe body was rocking against him, his hard cock rubbing against his hip…only…only there was something he was supposed to be doing. Something…he'd forgotten. He had to talk to Tony. Yeah, that was it. Talk to him about…

Tony sucked on Gibbs' tongue like he wanted to make a meal of it while his hands roamed over Gibbs' body, every touch a testament to his love. Oh, what the hell, they could talk…later. Gibbs relaxed into Tony's embrace. This was perfect, some kind of heaven, with Tony in his arms, safe and loving and responsive, and all _his_.

Tony's slid a hand across Gibbs' shoulder and then his chest, caressing him and rubbing his thumb back and forth over a nipple. His fingers plucked at it through his t-shirt, playing with it until it formed a hard nub, and a moment later Tony pinched and pulled at the nipple – hard – and a jolt shot through Gibbs. He gasped into Tony's mouth and his balls tightened and his hips thrust up of their own accord, butting his erection into Tony's abdomen. Talk about Pavlov's dog.

The need to talk to Tony about…whatever it was…was fast becoming unimportant. Still, a voice in the back of Gibbs' brain kept reminding him that he had to get to the bottom of what was going on with Tony before they went any further. He tried to ignore the nagging voice, but it was impossible. It was with great reluctance that Gibbs pulled his mouth away from Tony's, breaking their kiss. He turned his head away and said, as firmly as he could, "Tony. Gotta stop."

Tony mumbled something that sounded like 'forgetaboutit' against Gibbs' cheek and sought out his mouth. Gibbs turned to look at Tony, and Tony, not one to miss an opportunity, licked Gibbs' lips, teasing him with his tongue before capturing his lower lip between his teeth.

Gibbs couldn’t think. His entire world was centered on the way Tony was making him feel, all wanted and warm, and so damned aroused that his dick was throbbing painfully and leaving a big damp spot on his underwear. They grappled and kissed, and made out for what seemed like forever, and when they eventually parted, they were both panting and grinning at each other like idiots. Gibbs' heart thrummed at the sight of Tony's flushed cheeks and swollen lips. He ran his fingers down the side of Tony's face, breathing, "So damned beautiful."

Ducking his head at the compliment, Tony asked, "Your eyesight going?"

Gibbs shook his head. He said in a low voice, "Oh no. I can see just fine." He licked his lips; they felt a bit swollen, and the way Tony was watching his tongue made Gibbs smile.

A smile grew on Tony's face, too, lighting up his eyes. He removed the towel from around his waist, dropped it on the floor, and crawled onto the bed to lie on Gibbs' good side. "Make love to me," Tony said, sneaking one hand under Gibbs' t-shirt to rub his stomach. "Take this off?" He ran his foot up and down Gibbs' leg, stirring the hairs on his calf, scratching him lightly with his toenails.

Gibbs looked ruefully at Tony, who wiggled until he was pressed right against his side. The younger man was gazing at Gibbs with unabashed desire while his fingers caressed Gibbs' skin and pulled gently at the soft hair that trailed down the center of his stomach. It just about killed Gibbs to have to do it, but he reached out and stilled Tony's roving hand. He had to swallow hard before he could even speak, and even then his voice was rough. "We need to talk first."

"Oh, c'mon. Not now, Jethro. Now is for us. Forget about everything else. Love me, please," Tony said, bracing himself with one arm on either side of Gibbs' chest. He leaned down to mouth the soft skin under Gibbs' jaw. "Mmm, so good."

"No Tony." Gibbs found the strength – barely – to take hold of Tony's biceps and push him away, just far enough so he could look him in the eyes. It wasn't easy to be hard-nosed, especially when confronted by the disappointed look in Tony's eyes, but Gibbs managed. "First I need to know what your father said to you."

"Jethro." Tony moaned in frustration and dropped his forehead onto Gibbs' chest.

"I want to know what he said to make you go with him," Gibbs demanded. He pushed Tony to one side and rolled over to face him, trying not to jar his leg.

Tony buried his face in Gibbs' chest and didn't reply.

"Is he holding something over you?"

Tony didn't look up but he shook his head.

Gibbs wasn't certain if Tony was denying that his father was pressuring him; it seemed more like Tony was refusing to talk about it.

"Don't," Tony whispered.

Don’t ask him difficult questions? But he had to. Gibbs gently laid his hand on the side of Tony's neck, over the bruises put there by Senior's hand. "He's threatening you," Gibbs said, as if certain. Of course Senior was threatening his son. At their very first meeting DiNozzo Sr. had made sure that Gibbs understood that Junior always did what he was told. Tony had been programmed to obey his father, and it would be stupid to think that the young man would be able to cast off his father's influence overnight. What dire threats had Tony's father made that would prevent his son from talking? Senior had once told Tony he'd fly him to the Middle East and sell him to the highest bidder.

Gibbs gripped Tony's shoulder to get his attention, and Tony raised his face, appearing conflicted and maybe a bit scared. Of what, Gibbs wasn't sure. "Tony, you don't have to listen to him any more. He has no power over you. None, you understand? No matter what it is, we can deal with it, you and me, together."

Tony stared at Gibbs for a moment then slowly shook his head. "No, no…I don't want to talk about it. I _can't_ ," he insisted.

"You don't trust me?"

"I do trust you," Tony said, in a small voice. "You don't understand."

Gibbs frowned. There was more to this than Tony being stubborn, and he didn't like being left in the dark. "No, I don't understand, Tony. You say you trust me but you won't talk to me." Tony reached out and placed his hand over Gibbs' heart and raised his face for a kiss, but Gibbs took hold of his arm and said, "Don't do that. I can't protect you if I don't know what's going on. Now you need to tell me, before we…"

Tony asked, worriedly, "Before…we make love? You don't want me?"

Damn, he didn't want to give Tony an ultimatum, but he had to know what the hell was going on. "Not while you're keeping secrets from me, Tony." It was the truth, but it came out sounding like a cruel rejection.

For a long moment, Tony stared at him, shocked, and then the shock turned to hurt. "You said you'd love me, no matter what," Tony said accusingly. He twisted out of Gibbs' hold on him, but instead of moving away, Tony leaned in and kissed Gibbs hard, with raw need.

Despite his intention to keep his distance until this matter was settled, Gibbs returned the kiss. He cupped the back of Tony's head, holding him close even if it was obvious that Tony wasn't going anywhere. He focused on the taste and heat of Tony's mouth, his teeth and tongue and the pressure of his lips, until Tony took hold of his dick along with a fistful of underwear. Gibbs groaned and conceded defeat, accepting Tony's advances, because the truth was that Gibbs couldn’t say no to him.

All the time they were kissing, Tony was stroking Gibbs with just the right amount of pressure, and he did this thing with his thumb, pressing on that sensitive place under the head of Gibbs' cock that made his toes curl. Tony slid the thin cotton of Gibbs' boxers back and forth within his fist, creating an unbearable friction. Gibbs' heart was pounding in his ears and he got so dizzy that he had to break away from the kiss, and he lay there, head back, gasping for air while Tony jerked him off.

Tony was panting, too, his lips soft and wet against Gibbs' cheek, as he breathed, "Love you, love you, love you," against Gibbs skin. It sounded like a mantra that sought to convince Gibbs – or himself – through its repetitive chant.

To Gibbs, it seemed all too desperate. It took all of his willpower to do so, but he pushed Tony's hand away and ordered, "Stop, Tony."

Tony did as he was told, but he rose above Gibbs and held him down with a hand in the center of his chest, silencing Gibbs' objection with kisses. Tony had the advantage of weight and angle, and he seemed determined to get his fill of Gibbs, kissing and sucking, and delivering the occasional nip, all along his neck and jaw. When Gibbs tried to turn, to take back control, Tony threw his leg over Gibbs' good one and kept him in place, making a small sound of triumph at his apparent success.

Gibbs didn't have the heart to toss Tony on his ass, like he probably should have done, but he did mutter a grunt of protest into Tony's mouth and took hold of his hair and tugged. Turned out that Tony liked that – a lot – and he reciprocated by biting Gibbs' nipple through his shirt. Distracted, it took a couple of seconds for Gibbs to notice that Tony's hand had wandered south again, and he groaned deeply when Tony's palm pressed against his dick. "Oh, God…there…that's good. Fuck."

Tony pushed Gibbs' boxers out of the way and he tugged at Gibbs' balls. He watched Gibbs' face attentively when he asked, "You like that, don't you?" There was no way that Gibbs could reply but Tony got the message when Gibbs nodded. Tony grabbed hold of Gibbs' dick like it was the handbrake on and old VW. Gibbs shouted with surprise and Tony choked out a laugh before shutting him up with a quick, sloppy kiss. "Hot," said Tony and began to pump Gibbs' shaft in a fast-paced rhythm.

He was rock hard and his balls ached with need, and Gibbs followed his body's desires. He gripped Tony's shoulder to steady himself, and he jerked his hips and thrust his hips up, into Tony's tight fist. Tony kissed Gibbs again, and his tongue was busy for a while, thrusting in and out of Gibbs' mouth in time to the pumping motion of his fist. When Tony dragged his thumb roughly across the tip of Gibbs' dick, he shouted and bucked so hard that Tony faltered and lost his grip.

Gibbs took advantage of the situation; he got a firm hold of Tony about the waist, and had him on his back, pinned to the mattress, before Tony knew what had happened.

It was Tony's turn to be surprised. "You…you let me…"

Gibbs grinned. "Damn right I did. You had your fun, now I'm gonna have mine."

Tony smiled up at him with satisfaction. "'Bout time, Jethro."

Gibbs' thigh muscles objected when lowered his weight on top of Tony, but at that point no amount of pain was going to distract him from his goal. He took hold of Tony's dick. It was slippery with pre-come, and hot, with velvety skin covering his hard erection. While he ran his hand up and down its length with long, firm strokes, Gibbs dipped his head to Tony's chest and, careful to avoid the band-aid, licked at a nipple with the tip of his tongue. Tony squirmed and whimpered quietly, so Gibbs got down to business, sucking and nibbling on the hard little nub. He pulled at it with his teeth until he felt Tony's legs quivering beneath his, and then he worked on the other nipple, fastening his mouth on it and sucking hard. After Tony cried out, Gibbs looked up and growled, "Next time wear your nipple rings."

"Oh…o-okay," said Tony, blinking, his expression a little dazed.

Gibbs licked and kissed his way up to Tony's mouth, and kissed him thoroughly, taking his own sweet time about it. By the time he was finished, Tony was loose-limbed and had just about melted into the bedding, his hair messy and dark against the white of the pillowcase. "You okay there?" Gibbs asked, thinking that Tony had never looked so fuckably handsome.

Tony ran his tongue lazily over his bottom lip and smiled. "Oh, I'm just fine."

"Yeah? You up for some action?"

"Gonna fuck me, Marine?"

Jeez, he was just begging to be taken, thought Gibbs. "Damned right I am."

Without removing his eyes from Gibbs' face, Tony reached under the pillow and came out with a tube of lube. Gibbs went to take the lube but Tony said, "Let me." He squeezed some out and slicked up Gibbs' cock in a few quick strokes, and if Gibbs hadn't grasped the base of his cock and squeezed, he would have shot his load right then and there. He was breathing heavily and sweating, and wondered how the hell he was going to do this when he couldn't use his right leg for leverage.

"What's the matter?" asked Tony, running a hand up Gibbs' arm.

Gibbs grouched, "My leg."

Seeing Gibbs' quandary, Tony said, "Lie back. I'll be on top."

"On top?" Gibbs' brain wasn't exactly on track and it took him a couple of seconds to get what Tony was suggesting. He wasn't so sure about being on the bottom again, but he rolled onto his back and a moment later Tony was straddling his pelvis.

Tony's erect cock curved up towards his belly. It was shiny with moisture at the tip, and Gibbs reached out to touch it, fascinated, because as far as men's penises went, it was the best-looking one he'd ever seen. Not that he'd seen many. Gibbs formed a loose fist that he ran up and down the veined shaft, liking the feel if its rigid heat in his palm. God, it was gorgeous and he wondered what it would feel like to have Tony's cock inside of him. He almost came at the unbidden thought.

Tony trembled at Gibbs' touch and his breathing hitched. "Gonna come…don't…touch," he mumbled in warning. Reluctantly, Gibbs released him. Tony positioned himself, squatting above Gibbs' dick, careful not to go anywhere near his injured thigh. He reached behind himself, took Gibbs' dick in a businesslike hold, and started to lower himself onto it.

It was only when the head of Gibbs' dick was butting up against Tony's entrance that his brain caught up, and he clung to Tony's hips to prevent him from going any further. "Wait! You forgot the condom."

"No, I didn't."

"I need one, Tony–"

"It's okay," Tony assured him. He shook his head at Gibbs' questioning look. "We don't need one."

"Tony." Gibbs wanted nothing more than to fuck Tony without any barriers, but this wasn't right.

Tony leaned forward and kissed Gibbs' chest, and looked straight in his eyes. He said softly, "Please, Jethro. I've never gone bareback before, not with anyone. It'll be fine." Taking Gibbs' silence as consent to go ahead, Tony slowly lowered himself onto Gibbs' cock, grimacing a bit when he was first breeched.

Gibbs steadied Tony, holding his breath, letting Tony do this at his own pace. It was tough, trying not to move when what he really wanted to do was thrust his dick into Tony's tight ass. Dammit, he wanted to be on top, but instead he had to deal with his crap-for-a-leg.

Tony slowly sank down, inch by inch, panting and making mewling noises, until Gibbs' cock was fully embedded inside him. "Oh God. Fuck, that's good," Tony said, closing his eyes and breathing heavily.

Tony opened his eyes again and moved his hips from side to side, settling, and Gibbs shuddered at the sensation of the heated flesh that clenched around his cock, stimulating it. He moaned, echoing Tony's words, "Oh God. Fuck." It was all so intense and somehow unexpected, far more intimate than any time before.

Tony rose up, and then back down, ever so slowly, repeating the action, each time a bit higher and faster, impaling himself. Gibbs' hips rose in response and Tony pushed back against every thrust Gibbs made, working to a personal beat. Tony fucked himself on Gibbs' cock, his head back and his eyes half-closed, making high-pitched moans every time Gibbs' cock brushed against his prostate.

Gibbs dug in his heels and thrust into Tony's heat, deeper, harder, calling out Tony's name amongst words of encouragement. "Fucking good, that's it, fuck fuck, Tony! Oh yeah, good! Fuck!" He lost himself in the rhythm, his injured leg trembling with the strain, not sure how much longer he could keep this up.

It was building fast, the heat in his belly that came riding in on a wave of ecstasy, and then Tony arched his back and cried out and came, streams of milky fluid pulsing over Gibbs' chest, splattering across his chest to hit his chin.  The smell of Tony's come, the heat of it on his skin, was enough to send Gibbs over the edge. He gave one last heave and shuddered, rising up at the last moment to hug Tony's sweaty body in a fierce embrace, his shout choked off as he came deep inside of him. Tony collapsed on top of Gibbs, and they fell onto the mattress together, chests heaving as they caught their breath.

They lay entwined in each other's arms, the smell of sweat and musk heavy in the darkened bedroom. Gibbs, exhausted to the point of numbness yet deeply satisfied, stroked Tony's back and managed to mumble, "That's my boy." He fell asleep to the sound of Tony whispering, "Love you, love you," in his ear.

***–*** end chapter 71 ***–***


	72. Working it Out

Gibbs woke sometime before dawn, feeling like crap. His entire body ached, his mouth was dry as dust, and the minute he moved, a spasm gripped his thigh. Not wanting to disturb Tony, he gritted his teeth while he kneaded his leg, carefully avoiding the healing stab wound, until the pain reduced to a dull throb. Gibbs turned on his side, trying to find a comfortable position, and the pillow supporting his injured leg slid to the floor. He let out a soft moan of frustration, knowing it was going to be a pain to retrieve it.

"Jethro?" The whispered plea sounded loud in the quiet bedroom.

Gibbs rolled onto his back and slowly opened one eye. "Wha'?" 

"You're awake," Tony said, sounding relieved.

"No I'm not." Gibbs reached out, encountering Tony's arm. Patting it a couple of times, he mumbled, "Go ba' to sleep." 

"I can't," Tony said. 

Gibbs turned to look at Tony through bleary eyes. They'd left a nightlight on in the bathroom with the door slightly ajar, and he could make out that Tony was sitting next to him on the bed, his arms hugging his raised knees. The temperature had dropped in the night and the bedroom was chilly. Tony must have felt cold; he was wearing a pair of Gibbs' sweatpants and an old sweatshirt that said USMC in faded letters over the heart. Even in the dim light, Gibbs could tell from the look on Tony's face that something was bothering him.

Gibbs struggled to raise himself onto his elbows, and as soon as he did, the throbbing in his thigh decided to heat up anew. Swallowing a curse, he closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them again, it was to find Tony watching him with dark, worried eyes. Gibbs licked his dry lips and asked, "What's the matter? You sick?"

Tony shook his head but the worried look didn't go away. He surprised Gibbs by touching his shoulder and saying, "I'll be right back. Stay right there." A second later he disappeared into the bathroom.

Gibbs collapsed with a groan. "I ain't goin' nowhere." What the hell time was it, anyway? Turning his head on the pillow, he could just about make out the red numbers on his bedside clock. Looked like it was nearly 0500. What the hell was Tony doing up at this time of night? Gibbs scratched his chin. Getting only three hours of sleep wasn't enough, as was evidenced by the fact that he had to strain just to put two thoughts together. Man, civvie life was making him soft. There was a time – not so long ago – when he could do a three-day hump in full gear without any shut-eye, and still make a clean kill at 1800 meters.

***–***

Gibbs thought back to when he'd just come back from the Gulf. He'd stood over the graves of his wife and child, his knee messed up from shrapnel, wracked with guilt and despair, wanting nothing more than to be with them. Everything he'd ever loved was gone – his family, his career, his faith – and he had a hard time facing it. Eventually, he'd ended up in front of NIS Special Agent Mike Franks' desk, and when Franks had handed him a means to an end, Gibbs had grabbed it, with no thought beyond taking revenge. And when it was done, he was left with nothing but a big hole in his chest where his heart used to be. He'd had a rough time after that, something he didn't much like to think about. Not that he could remember half of it, anyway. He'd done a lot of drinking, some fighting, too. He'd been to places he had never expected to go, nor ever wanted to visit again – dark and desolate, full of hopelessness and heartbreak. 

When he finally got his head out of his ass, and figured it was time to turn his life around, Gibbs pulled himself up and got on with it. It had taken its toll though. He had always been single-minded, hardheaded and ruthless in combat, but after his family had been so violently taken away from him, those traits carried over into his everyday life. He changed into someone he hardly recognized – harder, more cynical. More driven. Of course that was partly due to Mike Franks' influence. Mike pushed hard under the guise of teaching his new probie, but Gibbs took all the punches and asked for more.

Despite some setbacks over the past year, Gibbs had begun to find his footing again. Problem was, he was still unsure of his path. He'd thought the answer was to find a companion, a wife, even though he knew there was no replacing Shannon. Now he knew he'd been looking in all the wrong places. Just look at the misstep he'd made where Joan was concerned, trusting that another try at marriage would complete the circle, make him whole again. Thank God that Tony's presence had opened his eyes to what a big mistake it would be to marry her, and he had avoided what would have been a disaster. 

It was funny, because standing in his kitchen a few days ago, when faced with Joan on one side and a half-naked Tony on the other, he'd found himself at a major turning point in his life. He had stood there, teetering on the brink of something vast and daunting, and it had suddenly hit him – in one of those light-bulb moments when clarity strikes so hard you almost stumble – that his future lay in the shape of a tall, lithe, green-eyed young man, who came with a big heart and an even bigger set of baggage.

No doubt about it, meeting Tony had brought Gibbs back to life, given him some of that hope he'd lost, as well as a huge dose of some much-needed love. And Gibbs had been surprised at his ability to reciprocate that love, to fully embrace it, and at how strong it was. Gibbs wasn't deluding himself that Tony was the answer to everything, but knowing Tony, simply _being_ with him, had given Gibbs a renewed sense of purpose and had enabled him to open up his heart once again.

***–***

Gibbs absently shifted his legs under the covers while he listened to Tony running the water in the bathroom. Something didn't feel quite right with the bedding, and it wasn't just because the pillow that had been supporting his leg was missing. No, it was the way the smooth fabric of the sheet was sliding across his dick, which rested limply on his thigh. A quick peek confirmed that he wasn't wearing the underwear he usually slept in, even though for some reason he was still wearing his t-shirt. Huh. 

It took a few more seconds for Gibbs to get his sleep-deprived brain online, and eventually the reason for the missing boxer shorts came to him: sex. Sex with Tony.

Gibbs found himself grinning like a teenager. No wonder he was aching. Their lovemaking had been pretty intense, and seeing Tony's face all lit up when he reached his orgasm, the way he'd trembled and moaned, and then had come in hot spurts all over Gibbs' chest – well, over his t-shirt – that was certainly worth the little bit of pain that followed in its aftermath. Yeah, making love with Tony was definitely something to smile about.

The water turned off, toilet flushed, and Tony came out of the bathroom. He dropped a damp washcloth and a towel on the rumpled bedding before carefully climbing onto the bed with a glass of water in his hand. He seemed so serious that Gibbs wondered what was bothering him. "What woke you up? Bad dream?" He'd had his share of nightmares over the years, and would be surprised if Tony did _not_ have any, after all his bad experiences.

Tony shook his head, tight-lipped, which in itself was an indication that something was wrong. A silent Tony worried Gibbs. It struck him that he may have inadvertently hurt Tony during their lovemaking, so he asked straight out, "I hurt you?"

Tony seemed surprised. "Oh, no. I'm a little sore, but it's nothing."

Gibbs doubted that it was nothing, but he decided to let that one get by. He wanted to help but Tony wasn't making it easy by sitting there staring into the glass of water like it held all the answers. He'd stared into the depths of enough glasses of bourbon to know it was a waste of time. Maybe he was too revved up to sleep. They'd had a challenging day, running around after Torres, and Tony wasn't used to being under fire. Plus there was the emotional shit his father had been putting him through. "Hey, talk to me," Gibbs said.

For a long moment Gibbs thought that he wasn't going to get any response, but Tony said in a quiet voice, "You were making noises."

Okay, he hadn't expected that answer. "So I was…what, snoring?"

Tony's eyes fixed upon Gibbs as if he'd said something monumentally stupid. "No, you were groaning in your sleep, Jethro. It sounded like you were in a lot of pain."

If he'd been in pain while he was sleeping, Gibbs certainly wasn't aware of it. "It wasn't that bad," he said dismissively.

"Well, it sounded really bad," Tony snapped angrily. "I'm sorry, but I got worried and it was obvious that you were in pain even though you're telling me you weren't, and…and it was all my fault that we overdid it, and I tried to get you to wake up but you were just lying there groaning, and I was just about to call Ducky when you finally woke up…"

"Okay. Okay, calm down." Gibbs ran his hand along Tony's forearm and gave it a squeeze. Tony took a couple of deep breaths and swallowed, and seemed to calm a bit. "Tony, it's all right. I'm fine. It's not your fault if my leg hurts." He quickly added, "Not that it hurts right now." Although he managed to conjure up a smile, Gibbs had a feeling it wasn't very convincing from the way Tony was frowning at him. 

"You told me to stop, but I kept on pushing you to have sex with me." Tony averted his gaze and said, "I do that when I get nervous, or when I don't want to think about some things. I try not to make everything about getting off, but sometimes this feeling comes over me, like I have to _have_ sex or else I'll fall apart, so that's why I made you do it with me." 

Interesting that he's aware he does that, thought Gibbs. It's a bad habit, or maybe more of an addiction. He eyed Tony skeptically. "You think you coerced me? You think I do anything I don't want to do?"

Tony said slowly, "Well, no, I guess not. But I did my best to–" 

"No buts, Tony. We both make our own choices." 

"Hard to tell if they're the right choices at the time," Tony said.

"'Fraid so. You'll make mistakes and learn from them."

Tony reached over to get something from the nightstand. "Before he left, Ducky said you'd be needing these and that I had to make sure you took them." He held out a couple of white pills, along with the glass of water.

"He did, did he?" Gibbs frowned at Tony and crossed his arms over his chest. "I know where the aspirin is kept, if I need it, Tony," he said, to make a point.

Tony looked into Gibbs' eyes and after a moment he nodded and said, "Maybe, but you still have to take these. You need to sit up." He slid an arm behind Gibbs' shoulders and helped him into a sitting position, managing to do so without spilling the water. Tony said, "I forgot all about giving you the pills earlier, because we were…"

"Otherwise engaged?" Gibbs suggested, taking the glass in hand. Even though he didn't need any assistance, he tolerated it because he liked the feeling of Tony's arm around his back, strong and supportive. 

Tony smiled and relaxed. "Yeah, engaged," he replied, handing Gibbs the pills. "Here, just take your medicine, Jethro." 

Gibbs narrowed his eyes in warning but he swallowed the white tablets and drank all the water. When he was done, Tony put the glass aside and fluffed up the pillows. Gibbs wasn't sure he wanted Tony was fussing over him, and he said so. "I can take care of myself," he said grouchily, lying back again. 

"Yes, but you don't _need_ to," Tony pointed out. He leaned in and kissed Gibbs on the mouth, a light kiss that came with a smile and the taste of mint. "I want to take care of you. Think of it as my job."

"Funny, I don't remember interviewing you, but I do have a casting couch downstairs. Sorta lumpy though," Gibbs said with a smirk. He ran his tongue across his teeth, tasting Tony and wondering how many times Tony had compulsively brushed his teeth since they'd been home. Maybe, with luck, it had only been the one time.

Tony kissed Gibbs again, this time deeply and possessively, his hand lightly sliding along his ribs. When they'd finished the kiss, he breathed into Gibbs' mouth, "I think you already hired me, Jethro."

They kissed again, tenderly, with none of their earlier urgency, stemming from an insatiable need. One thing for sure, Tony was very good at kissing. With just the right tilt of his head, a hint of tongue, and a way of sharing his feelings by merely changing the pressure of his lips, he had Gibbs reeling and wishing it would never end. 

Gibbs slipped his tongue between Tony's soft lips and felt the young man shiver with pleasure. That, in turn, aroused Gibbs, but this wasn't about seduction. This was one of those kisses that really meant something, so much more than a barely controlled, hot and heavy prelude to sex. This kiss seemed to be an invitation and a promise all rolled into one, and it made Gibbs' head spin and his heart open up with joy. "Tony…Tony," Gibbs whispered into Tony's mouth.

Tony drew away, just a little, and said breathily, "Wow. If I wasn't hired before, I'm pretty sure I am now. I am, after all, very skilled, and my bedside manner is excellent, or so I've been told. I can give you references if you want," Tony teased.

"References? Who from?" Gibbs asked, suddenly jealous. "Who says you're skilled?"

Tony gave a little laugh. "Well, you did, Jethro. Not in so many words, but I can see it in your face when we make love, when you come inside of me." He kissed Gibbs again, and then rubbed his cheek against Gibbs' with his eyes closed, and turned his head a little to give him small kisses along his jaw. "You sure you don't like me taking care of you?" he murmured.

Gibbs huffed out a breath, but then conceded, "Okay, it's nice."

Tony stopped kissing him and pulled away, hovering over Gibbs' chest on braced arms. He raised his eyebrows. "Just _nice_?"

"Yeah, it's nice to…to have someone care about me. To do nice things." Gibbs could feel his face heating up at the admission. 

"Someone? Does that mean _anyone_?" Tony ground his hips against Gibbs' thigh on his uninjured side. 

"No," Gibbs said, turning serious. He held onto Tony's hips to stop him from rubbing suggestively against him. "No, it doesn't. There's nobody else but you, Tony. Just you." Nobody had looked after him, just _been_ there for him, not since Shannon had died. He had been very lonely indeed, since he'd lost his girls, and he'd never truly believed he'd find someone he would be able to share his life with – not until he'd met Tony. Not that Shannon or Kelly would ever be out of his life. Their very souls were forever embedded in his heart, but Gibbs had come to believe that there was room in there for Tony, too. "And it wasn't just sex….earlier." Tony looked at him quizzically, so Gibbs said, "It was making love, Tony, and I can see I'm gonna have to teach you the difference."

Tony ducked his head a little, but even so, Gibbs could see his cheeks coloring up. "I'd like that," said Tony. "Now?" he asked, raising his eyes and looking hopeful.

Gibbs was tempted but he shook his head with a fond smile and patted Tony's warm cheek. "Tomorrow, okay?" 

"Okay." Tony lay down close to Gibbs' side, his arm slung across his stomach. "This is nice, too. Just being with you, you know?"

Gibbs scratched his itchy chin, and he realized he had dried semen not only on his shirt, but on his skin, too. He was about to say something when he saw Tony sit up, holding the washcloth in his hand. "That for me?" Gibbs asked.

"Yeah, I was lying on it. Forgot it was there. You'll need to take your shirt off." 

Gibbs rose just enough so he could pull his tee over his head. 

Tony took Gibbs' shirt from him, and sniffed it. "We'll have change the sheets before Ducky gets here in the morning." 

"Ducky won't give a damn about the sheets."

"Well, I don't want Ducky to know we've been going at it like bunnies, okay?"

"Oh, I get it," Gibbs said with a chuckle. He poked Tony in the ribs. "Ducky told you to lay off the sex, didn't he? You don't want him to come down on you."

Caught out, Tony squirmed a little. "Yeah, well, I promised Ducky I wouldn't jump you, because he said you need your rest or else you'll get sick and get some disgusting infection in your leg, and if that happens, there'll be hell to pay. Not those exact words, but close enough. The thing is, I thought you needed sex more than you needed a bit of shut-eye – I know _I_ needed it," Tony said, making motions with his expressive hands as he talked. "And then I woke up because you were making those horrible sounds in your sleep, and I got scared that he was right and–"

Gibbs grabbed Tony's hands and held onto them. "Tony, he made me promise to give it a rest, too." They looked at each other, and said, at the same time, "Better change the sheets." Gibbs started to laugh but it changed into a yawn. A lethargic feeling washed over him all of a sudden. "You gonna wash me or what?"

"If you like."

"Yeah, I like," Gibbs admitted. He yawned again.

"Looks like I'd better be quick," Tony said with a crooked smile. He washed Gibbs from his neck to his groin, careful not to get the bandages on his arm and thigh wet. Tony ran the washcloth over Gibbs' chest, careful around the large purple bruise. "This hurt?" Tony asked quietly. 

Gibbs raised his head only long enough to glance at the bruise, made when Harding's bullet struck his bulletproof vest. "If I take a deep breath," he said indifferently. He didn't want Tony to make a big deal out of it, even though they both knew how close he'd come to getting killed that night. They both had, for that matter.

Tony leaned down to give the bruise a gentle kiss, and Gibbs placed a hand on Tony's head, keeping him there for a minute. Tony turned his head and rubbed his cheek back and forth across Gibb's chest, stirring the hairs there. Gibbs drew in a ragged breath, and gripped Tony's hair to stop him before it went any further.

Tony gave Gibbs' chest one last kiss, and went back to his task with a knowing smile. "Nice?"

"'S nice," Gibbs said drowsily, enjoying the feeling of Tony's gentle hands washing him, and then drying him off.  

When Tony washed Gibbs' groin he was all business, but the feeling of the slightly rough washcloth wiping the length of his dick, and the way Tony cupped the weight of his balls in one hand while he dried them with the soft, fluffy towel was almost too much for Gibbs. By the time Tony was done, Gibbs was panting but his limbs felt so heavy he couldn’t find the strength to move.

Tony got off the bed, tossed the washcloth and towel in the bathroom then pulled a fresh tee and a pair of boxer shorts from Gibbs' bureau. He helped Gibbs put them on, and retrieved the pillow that had fallen on the floor, which he carefully placed under Gibbs' right knee. Next thing Gibbs knew, Tony was lying at his side, snuggling close under the warm comforter, making contented sounds. Gibbs asked, without opening his eyes, "Mmm. You okay? F'got to bandage your wrists. Should do tha'."

Tony ran his hand across Gibbs' stomach in long, lazy strokes. "I'm fine. My wrists are fine. How're you doing?"

"I'm…okay. Better now." He hugged Tony to let him know he really was grateful for his attention, even if it was hard for him to say so aloud. Whatever those pills were, they were fast-acting. The pain had pretty much faded to nothing, and he was feeling decidedly warm and fuzzy. "Very okay."

"Then I'm okay, too," Tony said in a quiet voice. "I was really worried. I don't like you being in pain."

"Comes with the territory. Being an agent. You get shot at sometimes." Gibbs licked his lips and tried to focus. "Or stabbed." 

"Yeah, well, doesn't mean I have to like it."

Gibbs said, "Shannon used to say that the life of a Marine's wife was 90% worry, 10% love." He drifted a bit, letting the memories wash over him, and after a while he said quietly, almost to himself, "After she was killed, when I used to lie awake at night, wondering how I could keep going, I'd remember the details of every day we ever spent together, starting with the day we met." Better than counting sheep, if not much more bittersweet.

Tony moved within the circle of Gibbs' arms, lifting his head so he could see Gibbs' face. "You remember every day?"

"Most of 'em, I think. I added up the days we were together once." He had either been deployed or on assignment, away from home, for most of their married life. "I was there for my girls…for less than three years outta twelve." Gibbs' voice was rough when he said, "I missed so damned much…by not being there. I never thought…"

The mattress dipped as Tony rose up on one elbow. He leaned over Gibbs and kissed him, offering comfort and understanding. "The time you spent together was important to her, no matter how many days it added up to. She knew that love has nothing to do with time, Jethro."

Gibbs trailed his fingers down the side of Tony's face, caressing his cheek. He blinked heavily, trying to stay awake. "How can y' know what she was thinking?"

"Because I feel the same way. I know enough not to waste good, too." Tony settled down under the covers and rested his cheek on Gibbs' chest. He mumbled, "Go to sleep now."

Gibbs smiled at the young man in his arms, and before he could say, 'love you,' he fell into a deep sleep.

***–*** end chapter 72 ***–***


	73. No Matter What

The first thing Gibbs became aware of was the sun streaming into his bedroom, and the second was that Tony was not in bed with him, nor was he anywhere to be seen. Gibbs squinted at his bedside clock and couldn't believe that it was ten. He hadn't slept this late in years, not since he was a young teen. Cautiously, he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Okay, his bad leg was stiff but the pain of the night before was pretty much gone. That was a great relief. Maybe Ducky had been right, that rest and elevation was the answer. Or, thought Gibbs, smiling to himself, maybe sex with Tony was the cure.

He sat on the edge of the bed for a minute, scratching his belly, feeling pretty out of it. One thing for sure, the pills that Tony had given him certainly had not been aspirin, and he planned to have a talk with Ducky about giving him meds that knocked him out like that.

As far as Gibbs could remember, neither of them had eaten anything since sometime yesterday, but what he really needed was coffee – and a lot of it. His stomach growled and he wondered where Tony had gone until he heard the clattering of pans in the kitchen below. No doubt, Tony had scrounged around and had found something to eat already. Even if the fridge was empty, there were enough cans of beans, stew, and fruit in the cupboards to feed a family for a month. Shannon had teased him about hoarding, but Gibbs' grandmother, who had canned her own fruit and vegetables, had informed young Leroy that a well-stocked pantry was a godsend during hard times.

Gibbs found the band-aid was still adhered to the gash on the back of his head so he peeled it off and tossed it in the trash. He figured he'd better get his ass in gear because he had to take a leak and then make his way downstairs to start the coffee. To tell the truth, he wanted to see Tony, make sure that he was all right. Gibbs stumbled to the bathroom, took care of business and headed back to the bed, favoring his wounded leg a bit, even though the pain had diminished to a slight ache. They had talked about stripping the sheets off the bed, and Gibbs was about to do just that when the door opened and Tony stuck his head in.

When he saw that Gibbs was up, Tony entered, smiling happily. "Morning, Jethro. Brought you coffee." He held up a big mug of coffee, and its delicious aroma wafted over to Gibbs.

Gibbs grunted and held out his hand, demanding the coffee.

"A little bit caveman this morning, Jethro?"

"Mmm," was Gibbs' response, taking possession of the mug of coffee and sitting on the unmade bed. It didn't look like Tony was fazed by a bit of gruffness first thing in the morning, which was good since he wasn't likely to change anytime soon. It struck Gibbs, as he sipped the scalding hot brew, that he was now anticipating waking up most mornings with Tony in his bed. The thought that they'd be sleeping together on a regular basis warmed him up almost as much as the coffee did. And the coffee, God, it was good, and _strong_. "Mmm," he groaned in appreciation. Tony had made it just the way he liked it, and after a couple of cups of this high-octane coffee he'd be up and running like normal.

Tony smiled indulgently at him and then said, "I'd better get a move on, before Ducky arrives."

While Gibbs sat on the bed and drank his coffee, he watched Tony tidy up the room, which meant hiding the lube and unused condoms from the night before. Gibbs stared at a pile of laundry that Tony gathered up from around the room and dumped near the door. "Are those sheets?"

"Yeah," said Tony casually. "I changed them while you were sleeping."

Gibbs checked out the bedding he was sitting on and realized that they weren't the sheets that they had messed up the night before. They were a darker blue and they had a freshly laundered scent. "You changed them…how?"

"Like Magnum said, 'There are times when one human being really shouldn't take advantage of another…but this wasn't one of them.'" Tony grinned and came over. He leaned into Gibbs' space to give him a slow, languorous kiss.

Tony's tongue was hot and he tasted of wheat flakes and sugar, and Gibbs immediately got lost in the sensation of the kiss. Eventually, when Tony's words sank in, he pulled away and stared into Tony's eyes. "Who?"

"Magnum. He's just about the greatest detective ever." Tony insinuated himself between Gibbs' thighs, hands sliding along the planes of Gibbs' chest, thumbs rubbing and pinching at his nipples, teasing. "You're not bad, either, and I really like taking advantage of you."

Careful not to spill his coffee, Gibbs set his mug down on the bedside table. He grabbed Tony's hand when it brushed against his crotch and demanded, "Did this Magnum fuck you?"

Tony jerked with surprise, and then he threw back his head and laughed. "Man, I _wish_!" At Gibbs' glare, Tony quickly said, "No, no, he's in a TV show. Don't you ever watch TV? Never mind, don't answer that. You know: Magnum, P.I., lives in Hawaii? I thought I told you about him."

Gibbs vaguely recollected Tony talking about this Magnum guy when they were staying over at Ducky's. He'd been talking with Gerald about a car. "He the one with the Ferrari?"

"Yeah, that's the one, and he lives on Robin Masters' estate and–"

Gibbs wrapped his arms around Tony and kissed him hard, and Tony melted into him with a small moan. Their tongues tangled while they groped at each other, but when Gibbs' breathing quickened, and he clasped Tony's hips and tried to pull him down onto the bed, Tony resisted, laughing. "No time, Jethro. I'd really _really_ love to, but Ducky'll be here soon." His fingernails scraped along Gibbs' unshaven jaw, making a rasping sound. "You were great last night," Tony said, smiling into Gibbs' eyes.

"So were you," Gibbs replied, locking his ankles behind Tony's legs to prevent him from escaping. "Better than great." He watched Tony's tongue emerge to lick his bottom lip. Only the tip was showing, pink and moist, and it was all Gibbs could do not to toss Tony down and take him right then and there.

Tony kissed him briefly, with just a hint of that elusive tongue darting out as an enticement. "I'll have you know that I'm not only fantastic in bed, but I am also very good at whipping off a tablecloth without spilling a thing. Sheets, too," Tony boasted with a broad smile, He draped his arms around Gibbs' shoulders and leaned into him. "Not like in 'Das Boot' when that U-boat officer snaps the cloth off a table in the nightclub and everything goes flying."

"You whipped off the…? Never mind," Gibbs said, shaking his head. He ran his hands down the curve of Tony's spine to his ass and kneaded the firm muscles through the soft material of the well-worn sweatpants. Tony groaned and dipped his head to suck lightly on Gibbs' neck. "Hey, no hickeys," Gibbs warned, his eyes closing at the feeling of the warm, moist mouth slowly making its way across his throat.

Tony gave one last lick and said lightly, "You're no fun."

He combed his fingers through Gibbs' hair, apparently finding it fascinating, and Gibbs opened his eyes to stare into Tony's beautiful green ones. He wondered if Tony would ever tire of this, if it was just a novelty to him – being with an older man – or if their love would stand the test of time. But then he realized how unfair it was to judge Tony in such a way, to doubt the longevity or depth of his love solely because of his youth.

People did change, though, and went through various stages of life. His own expectations and desires at age eighteen were far different from the ones he had today. Not that thirty-three was old or anything, but a fifteen-year gap could seem considerable at times. Would they mature and grow at the same rate, and one day become so close, so in synch, that they'd become on of those couples who ended each other's sentences, and knew what their spouse was thinking?

Or would they discover, maybe only a couple of years from now, that their paths were heading in different directions – two roads diverged in a wood? The thought that they might not make it scared Gibbs. He could lose Tony to differences in age and interests, to circumstances beyond their control. He was already deeply invested in Tony, in what they were, and what they might be together, and if Tony chose to move along or, God forbid, he should turn to someone else for love, Gibbs knew it would break him.

Everything had been so easy with Shannon. She had been sweet and understanding although she had also been, in her own way, pretty tough. Even if they'd gone through a few rocky patches, they'd been compatible, had worked together well as they went about their daily lives. Having a child had bound them together in a deeply fulfilling way that nothing else in life could rival.

"Hey, you all right?" Tony touched Gibbs' cheek, concerned.

"Tell me…" _Tell me you'll never get tired of me. Tell me you'll always love me, that you'll stay with me, and that I'm a fool for thinking otherwise._ "Tell me how you changed the sheets without waking me up," Gibbs said softly.

Tony searched Gibbs' eyes, seeking whatever was bothering him, but instead of asking what was going on, he replied, "Actually, I didn't whip them off. You were dead asleep and I just rolled you. Gently, sort of like rocking a boat. You were sleeping like a baby and never made a peep. Guess I'd better get the evidence out of here before Ducky comes, huh?" Sighing, Tony pushed at Gibbs' chest until he reluctantly let him go. Halting at the door to pick up the pile of laundry, Tony bundled up the sheets and their dirty clothes, and gave them a sniff. "Everything stinks of smoke from the airport. I'll toss them in the machine and get you some breakfast. Eggs okay?"

Gibbs nodded, agreeing to eggs, and picked up his half-empty mug of coffee. "I'll need more coffee."

Tony was in the hallway when he turned back with a grin. "I'll bring it up here, seeing as you're not allowed to leave the bedroom."

"What am I supposed to do up here all day, by myself?"

"You've got a bed…and you'll have me," Tony said, shrugging as if the rest was obvious. "How about, after Ducky's gone, we take this up where we left off? It'll be fun, spending the afternoon in your bed. We can order pizza!" He flashed a smile and was gone, leaving Gibbs smiling to himself as he imagined making love to Tony all afternoon and licking pizza sauce off his lover's lips.

***–***

Tony returned, carrying a tray laden with a steaming mug of coffee for Gibbs, orange juice, and two plates piled high with toast and scrambled eggs with a dozen little sausages on the side. They ate sitting up in bed, backs against the headboard, shoulders touching. Gibbs enjoyed their quiet time together so much that he didn't mention that they still had some unfinished business to discuss, with regards to Tony father. He knew the subject would have to be broached and, more importantly, dealt with, before the day was over. He'd given Tony a lot of leeway so far, and it was his fault as much as Tony's that they'd become sidetracked last night, but he had to put his foot down. The minute Ducky was gone he was going to have it out with Tony, once and for all.

Tony had almost finished his second breakfast that morning when there was a knock at the front door. He shoved a last forkful of egg into his mouth, stole a piece of toast off Gibbs' plate and jumped up. "That'll be Ducky. I'd better go and let him in. I locked the doors after I brought my luggage in."

***–***

Ducky entered Gibbs' bedroom, smiling pleasantly. "Good morning, Jethro."

Gibbs looked past Ducky, and was disappointed to see that Tony had not accompanied the doctor back upstairs. "Where's Tony?"

Ducky raised his eyebrows. "Anthony? He is taking a constitutional."

Gibbs immediately sat upright, causing the breakfast dishes, still on their tray on his bed, to slide precariously. "A _what_?"

Ducky halted in the midst of unpacking supplies from his medical bag to remove the tray and place it safely aside on the bureau. "A constitutional. Actually, I believe that Anthony has gone for a run, rather than a brisk walk."

"I know what the word means, Duck," said Gibbs, impatiently. "Why'd you let him leave the house?"

"Some fresh air will do the lad good." Ducky seemed bemused by Gibbs' frown. "I fail to see where the problem lies, Jethro."

"The problem? The problem is that he didn't tell me he was going anywhere. He might…" Gibbs made to get off the bed but Ducky blocked him.

"I really do not believe it is necessary for you to go chasing after him."

"Damn it, Ducky." Every fiber of Gibbs' body was itching to run down the stairs and take off after Tony, but his brain told him that Ducky was right. Tony was well enough to go for a run. Danger wasn't lurking around every corner. Maybe, if he repeated that to himself several times, he'd start to believe it.

"This won't take long, and by the time I am done he will be wending his way back, most likely." Ducky motioned for Gibbs to sit back while he checked out his leg. "I wasn't aware that Anthony was under house arrest. I remember a time, some years ago, when I was in Chile, being confined by the local authorities to a _conventillo_. My companion at the time was a lovely opera singer by the name of Verónica Villarroel. Do you remember 'Flying Down to Rio' with Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers? 1933, I do believe, though I might need to confirm that with Anthony. There is a lovely song in the film that always reminds me of Verónica–"

"Ducky!"

"Do stop worrying, Jethro," Ducky admonished. "Anthony is only going as far as that delightful park a couple of miles up the road. He has assured me that he can find his way back, and that he will run at a sensible rate. I am sure that he will not accept candy from strangers," he added dryly.

Gibbs crossed his arms and glowered at the ME. "He'd better have taken his cell phone."

Ducky assured Gibbs, "I saw him tuck it into the front pocket of his sweatshirt with my own eyes." He busied himself cutting the bandage off Gibbs' leg while he talked. "Anthony may be young, but he is well on his way to being independent, now that that dreadful father of his is out of his life. Once he is back at his college, I'm sure that Anthony will find plenty of diversions, and hopefully he will be able to put all of this unpleasantness behind him. Not that he has found our company has been unpleasant, I am sure. Quite to the contrary. Anthony has mentioned more than once how lucky he was to have met us. Naturally, the sentiment is reciprocated." Ducky removed the bandage from Gibbs' leg and seemed pleased with its improvement. "As I have pointed out before, your young man seems quite resilient," he said as he cleaned the injured area.

"He certainly keeps surprising me, Duck," Gibbs admitted. "Gets hit hard but bounces back. Had a lot of practice at it. Problem is, he says he's fine when I know that underneath he isn't."

"Sound rather like someone I know," said Ducky with a raised eyebrow. "At least you know him well enough to read between the lines, Jethro. He needs someone who will understand him, and it appears that you fit the bill quite nicely."

Gibbs shook his head, genuinely concerned. "And what's gonna happen when I'm not around? He'll be back at college in a couple of days. I don't like the idea that he's going to be alone there."

"Hardly alone, my dear man, but Anthony has agreed to see a colleague of mine in Columbus, who will talk over any issues he may have. It's important for Anthony to know that there are people who care about him, who will be there for him, should he need support of any kind. I fear I shall miss that young man once he has gone, but he tells me he will be back as soon as the semester is over."

Gibbs agreed, but he didn't want to be reminded that Tony would be leaving on Sunday, in only three days. By the time Ducky had completed his examination, Gibbs was wearing large band-aids on both his forearm and his thigh, instead of bulky bandages.

"Industrial strength," the ME joked. "Now, I will be most grateful if you avoid getting hurt again, Jethro."

Gibbs snorted. "Not like I do it on purpose, Duck."

"Of course not. On another note, I'm sure that you are looking forward to returning to work, but I won't be able to clear you for a few days, as you need to rest your leg as much as possible. I do not expect to see you again until Monday. Do I make myself clear?" After getting a curt nod from Gibbs, Ducky picked up his bag and left, singing, "' _Oh Rio, everything will be okay. We're singing and winging our way to you…_ '"

***–***

Two minutes after Ducky had gone, Gibbs headed downstairs, which involved some limping, hopping, and cursing. He told himself that his primary goal was to get more coffee, but in reality, he was antsy about Tony being out of his sight, and he didn't quite know what to do with himself.

Gibbs sat at his dining room table drinking some freshly brewed dark roast coffee, wondering if he should jump in his truck to go looking for his missing lover. Not that Tony had been gone all that long. It was just that he felt uneasy. It was stupid, he knew, to be so concerned when there was no real reason for it, but he was a man who trusted his instincts and he had a feeling that something was off.

Sighing, Gibbs placed an overdue call to NCIS and talked to Mike Franks, who brought him up to speed with the latest goings-on at the Navy Yard. Franks groused a bit because the FBI agents were riding on their laurels for their part in bringing down Torres. They had to release Torres' men from custody and they all knew that it would be business as usual once a successor stepped into the mob boss's shoes. "They won't waste any time," said Franks. "Torres' man, Azari, is a blowhard idiot, but it looks like he's the favorite over the other contenders. Maybe there'll be a fight for the top position and they'll all shoot each other and spare us the trouble."

Meantime, NCIS was left to deal with the flak from Senator Harding's death, griped Franks. "Nobody likes it when a senator is killed, even if he was a whack-job serial killer that liked to torture his victims. Morrow's been taking care of it, smoothing things over with the press, and even the SecNav has put in a good word for the team."

"Hell, I'm just glad Harding's dead and gone," said Gibbs, gratified that the men at the top of NCIS stood behind their agents.

"Oh, and Gunny, Fornell's gonna call you."

"You know what it's about?" Gibbs asked his boss.

Franks didn't know, but he warned Gibbs to watch his back. "I'm headin' home for a bit. Be back in tomorrow but I'll keep an ear to the ground and give you a shout if I hear anything," Franks said and then hung up.

By the time he'd finished yet another cup of coffee, Gibbs was wide awake and getting more jittery by the minute. Tony still hadn't returned but a glance at his watch told Gibbs that Tony had only been gone for a little more than an hour. It felt more like five. Just when he was about to start mapping out a search grid, the phone rang. He picked it up, saying sharply, "Tony!"

There was a second of silence and then a laugh. "No, it's Fornell. What's the matter, you lose the kid again, Gibbs?"

Curbing his disappointment, Gibbs scowled and retorted, "I didn't _lose_ him."

"Uh-huh," said Fornell disbelievingly.

"Ducky let him go for a run," Gibbs said reluctantly.

Fornell laughed dryly. "Need to send out a search party? I can send over some hounds." Gibbs didn't think it was funny, but he begrudgingly appreciated Fornell's attempt to lighten his mood. Before Gibbs could respond, Fornell said definitively, "Tony is gonna be fine. You know how I know that, Gibbs?"

Gibbs sat up straighter in his chair and gripped the phone. "I'm sure you'll tell me," he said, his tone icy.

"Anthony Jr. will be just fine because, at this very moment, Anthony Sr. is in New York City."

Gibbs asked, "He was good enough to fly?" Last time he'd seen the man, he'd been about to escorted to the hospital to be treated for a broken arm and other injuries.

Fornell replied, "Oh yeah. Good enough to have flown to New York early this morning, though he didn't much like being shipped out before dawn on a military flight." Gibbs made a skeptical sound into the phone and Fornell chuckled. "You want evidence? I watched him board. Watched the plane take off. Got confirmation from the team escorting him that they touched down at LaGuardia. Believe me when I say he's out of your territory, Gibbs."

Gibbs said, "I'll take your word for it." Of course Senior would never be gone, not until he was dead and buried six feet under. "He _is_ still in custody, right?"

"Definitely. DiNozzo Sr. is currently sitting in the office of the deputy director of the FBI, surrounded by representatives from several agencies, who shall remain nameless, along with his lawyers, of course. And he is spilling his guts about that arms deal he made with the Peruvians."

Gibbs took a moment to try to figure out why Fornell sounded so pleased with himself. "That isn't exactly breaking news, Fornell. You've known about DiNozzo selling the location of the freighter ever since someone dropped that package in your lap a couple of weeks ago. If it wasn't for that, you'd still be in the dark."

Fornell agreed, "Sure, there was plenty of evidence in there to incriminate DiNozzo. Someone certainly had access to the inside information and, believe me, we're more than happy they decided to share it with us, even if they remained anonymous."

Gibbs was sure that the anonymous someone was Tony, forcing his father's hand, and the FBI must suspect Tony, too, even if they couldn't prove it. It was entirely due to the information in that package that the FBI had picked up Senior, frozen all of his remaining assets, and had been kept busy prying useful information out of him ever since.

"So, Senior has decided to talk?" asked Gibbs. That surprised him since, according to Tony, his dad hated the FBI and would only give them enough information to keep them busy until his lawyers got him released. Not that Gibbs thought that would ever happen. Now Senior hated the feds even more intensely, since Gibbs had killed his longtime friend and lover, Senator Harding. No, Senior would never give the FBI what they wanted. He might jerk them around some though, and probably enjoy every moment.

"Well, DiNozzo's been cagey from the beginning, giving us crumbs, but he's talking now. We did get some good intel about the mob out of him, but it's obvious that he's been withholding the best parts for when he got backed into a corner. Looks like that time is right now. We've got him against the wall."

"You're finally charging him? About time," said Gibbs forcefully.

"Oh yeah. We have a laundry list of charges, don't you worry."

"So what's the problem, Fornell?"

There was a pause before Fornell said, "You know the Peruvian weapons buyer who connected with DiNozzo Sr. in New York? That guy paid millions for the guns, Gibbs. And it was mostly heavy shit, artillery. Nobody needs that kind of weaponry unless they're planning on starting a war."

Fornell was stating the obvious but Gibbs asked, "A war against who?"

"In order to know that, we needed to know, for sure, the identity of the man who bought the freighter of weapons." Fornell explained, "The man who approached DiNozzo introduced himself as General Pablo Arerros, from Peru. DiNozzo told us that Arerros came with a boatload of government credentials and everything checked out."

Gibbs snorted. "You locate this General Arerros?"

"Not exactly. The real General Arerros died in a bombing in Lima five years ago. This is why my boss called in the CIA and other experts in Latin American affairs, and they're all in a closed meeting with DiNozzo at this moment. They need confirmation about who this man is, and what faction he's working for. So the question is, who really bought the weapons? That's what they're trying to get to the bottom of."

Gibbs laughed humorlessly and said, "Well, Tobias, I'm guessing that Senior is making you pay through the nose for that information."

"'Fraid so, Jethro. DiNozzo Sr. knows he's all jammed up, and he's looking for a way out. Right now he's making a deal, trying to get all charges dropped in exchange for whatever he has on this man."

"But you're not in on this meeting?" Gibbs asked.

"Uh, no," Fornell said with regret in his tone. "I had to hand DiNozzo off to the Bureau in New York. My territory only goes as far as crimes connected to the mob. This thing with Peru is a hell of a lot bigger. Of course that doesn't mean I don't hear things…"

"Spit it out, Tobias," Gibbs said testily. He didn't think it was likely that the FBI would release DiNozzo Sr. under any circumstances, not when there were so many charges hanging over his head, but you never knew. After all, they had considered offering the bastard a place in the witness protection program, which DiNozzo had subsequently refused. But if Tony's father somehow managed to con the FBI into letting him loose, he'd come to claim Tony. Gibbs had no doubt about that. As far as he was concerned, they'd better keep Senior under lock and key, because if he came sniffing around, looking for Tony, he'd be greeted by a loaded shotgun, and Gibbs wouldn't hesitate to pull the trigger to keep his boy safe. "What do you want?" Gibbs demanded, knowing that Fornell hadn't told him everything yet.

Fornell placated Gibbs, saying, "I can assure you that DiNozzo isn't going to get off scott free."

"I'm sensing there's a big 'but' coming up, right about now," Gibbs said, suspicious. His gut was telling him something bad was about to be sprung on him, and he didn't like being in the dark. Not at all.

Fornell took a deep breath and then said, "When DiNozzo Sr. met this guy from Peru, he wasn't alone. He went to dinner in a fancy restaurant and…and Tony was with him the whole time. He's a witness, Jethro."

"Hell no!" Damn it, he knew something like this was coming. "No way! No way are you going to get Tony involved, not after everything he's been through. You figure out another way, you hear me, Tobias?"

"We just want to show him some photos, Gibbs. See if he can ID any of the men in the pictures. It'll only take a few minutes. Just think – if Tony IDs the guy, maybe even comes up with a name, then there'll be no more bargaining with DiNozzo Sr. Think about it; the bastard won't have a leg to stand on. He goes to prison. We throw away the key. Makes everybody happy."

"I said no," Gibbs growled. "You are _not_ interrogating Tony."

"Look, how about if I come alone? Only me. I'll be gentle." Gibbs didn't say anything because he was fuming, and Fornell continued, "If you don't let me show him the photos, Gibbs, they're going to drag the kid down to headquarters, and believe me, they won't be nice about it. You don't really want that, do you?"

"You _threatening_ me, Tobias?"

It was Fornell's turn to be silent, but after a minute he said, "Our people are very concerned that these guns are going to be turned on our own forces, used against our soldiers, who are down there trying to put an end to the cocaine trade, trying to put a damn dent in the acts of terrorism those bastards keep carrying out. Look at the way those guerillas in Colombia bombed the _Montgomery_ in Callao last year, killing our Marines, and–"

"All right!" Gibbs interrupted with a shout. Damn it, he _knew_ Fornell was going to pull some stunt like this. "I'll give you five minutes with him, and then I'm throwing you out."

Sounding relieved, Fornell said, "I'll be there in one hour."

Gibbs hung up on him, slamming the phone down, and then swore, "Damn!" The last thing he wanted was for Fornell to come into his house, but if Tony could identify this man from Peru then that would mean his father would remain behind bars. Not wanting to allow Senior any advantage, Gibbs hoped that Tony could, indeed, ID the man.

***–***

Ten minutes later, the back door opened and Tony walked into the kitchen. He made straight for the fridge, grabbed the orange juice and raised the carton to his lips, his head tipping back as he slaked his thirst.

Gibbs watched him from the dining room. He sat at the table and waited patiently for Tony to settle in after his run, wondering how long it would take him to realize he was being observed.

Tony swiped his arm across his forehead, breathing a little heavily, but Gibbs was glad to see that Ducky had been right. The exercise had done Tony some good; his color was high, and he had a little smile on his face and seemed relaxed. Gibbs also noticed the way Tony rolled up the sleeves of his t-shirt, showing off his biceps, and how his damp shirt clung to his well-muscled chest. He recognized the red sweatshirt tied around Tony's waist as one of his own, but the running shoes were definitely Tony's, high tops with bold red stripes.

Tony finished off the juice and squashed the empty carton with one hand. Instead of dropping the carton into the open garbage can next to the fridge, he ran a few steps across the kitchen, did a quick pivot and threw it into the trash. It went in with a loud clang and Tony jumped up and down, arms raised, exclaiming, "Yes! DiNozzo makes the shot! Wins the game! The crowd goes wild–"

Smiling at Tony's enthusiasm, Gibbs clapped in appreciation. Tony turned, startled, and then he smiled and came over to give Gibbs a slow, sloppy kiss. "What're you doing down here? I thought you were supposed to stay in bed. Miss me?" Tony demanded, his voice low and sexy. He untied the sweatshirt from around his waist and dumped it on the table. There was a dull clunk from the cell phone in the pocket.

"Oh, yeah, I missed you," said Gibbs. Tony smelled of fresh air and sweat and Gibbs couldn't resist claiming his mouth again. With his lips still locked with Gibbs', Tony struggled to remove his sweaty shirt. They had to break contact for a moment, but Tony had the t-shirt off in a jiffy and he tossed it aside. He leaned over Gibbs, one hand braced on the table, and their lips met hungrily.

Gibbs ran his hands up Tony's sweat-slick ribs and found his nipples. To his surprise, Tony was wearing his nipple rings again. Gibbs tugged at one of the small gold loops experimentally and Tony's gasp reminded him how much that turned Tony on. Hell, it turned him on, too. He gently bit Tony's lower lip and said, in between kisses to his lips, "I cannot…wait…to fuck you…again, Tony."

"Oh God, Gibbs, please," Tony said, his breath hitching as he rubbed his hardening dick with one hand.

Releasing the nipple rings, Gibbs gave Tony a brief kiss and drew back, placing his palms on Tony's chest to keep him at bay. "Yeah, well, it's gonna have to wait," he said firmly. This was important and he needed to talk to Tony before Fornell arrived.

"Wait? What for? Nooo," Tony protested, trying to steal a kiss.

Gibbs deflected him easily and said, "Tony, I need you to do something for me. Hey, you listening?" At Tony's half-hearted nod, Gibbs said, "First of all, I want you to sit down."

"You want me to sit?" Tony looked at Gibbs' lap, as if trying to figure out how he could sit there without resting on his injured leg. He placed a hand on Gibbs' shoulder and suggested, "Pull your chair out a bit more."

Gibbs said, "No, sit over there. Other side of the table," he ordered, pointing.

Tony stood next to Gibbs and stared down at him as if he was nuts, and although he looked as if he was about to say something, he held back. With a nod, and with obvious reluctance, Tony did as he was told and took a seat opposite Gibbs.

Gibbs realized he couldn't have this conversation while faced with a bare-chested Tony, especially now he was wearing his nipple rings. "Put a shirt on," he said curtly.

Tony rolled his eyes, scooped up the red sweatshirt and pulled it over his head. "This okay?" he asked, taking his phone out of the pocket and putting it to one side on the table.

Gibbs nodded. The table was just wide enough to prevent them from being able to easily touch each other, and that was precisely what Gibbs wanted. He knew by now just how tempting Tony could be.

Tony kept his eyes upon Gibbs, curious. He barely fidgeted but Gibbs knew that wouldn't last long. Gibbs didn't say anything, biding his time. Keeping silent and waiting for the perp to break was an interrogation technique he often employed, but his intention was not so much to let Tony stew, as to create a distance between them. Having the table act as a physical barrier was not enough; he had to keep his emotions and personal feelings at bay in order to get to the bottom of what was going on between Tony and his dad. Gibbs was determined to see this through to the end, and nothing that Tony could do or say was going to distract him this time. He had less than an hour before Fornell turned up, so he got to work.

***–*** end chapter 73 ***–***


	74. Revelations

First and foremost, Gibbs wanted to find out why Tony had been so secretive about whatever was going on between him and his dad. Gibbs felt that he had been open with Tony, far more than he was normally comfortable with. If he was willing to go out on a limb, to freely offer everything he had to Tony, then why couldn't Tony do the same thing?

Was Tony so afraid of his father, of his dad's threats, that he'd risk losing what he had with Gibbs? Because if Tony didn't come clean about what was going on, this could very well be the end of their relationship. Gibbs understood that Tony's background hadn't provided him with the building blocks he needed to construct a steady, long-term relationship, but by now Tony should know that he could trust him implicitly. He would never turn his back on Tony, never hurt him intentionally or abuse his position to coerce him unfairly. He'd be loyal and loving, and would always do everything in his power to give Tony a good life. And, as he had already promised Tony, he would love him, no matter what.

At first, Gibbs had considered sitting on the couch, where he could hold Tony close while he explained to him that when he held important things back, it felt like Tony didn't care enough to trust him. The problem was that every time they had tried to talk while they'd been physically close, they'd ended up getting all hot and heavy. The sex had been great – more than great – but it was a distraction, which Gibbs couldn't afford right now. He may have felt wonderful afterwards, but he had been no closer to the truth.

***–***

Tony sat across the table, keeping his eyes on Gibbs. He licked his lips, squirmed around, fiddled with his phone and sighed. As Gibbs had anticipated, Tony didn't hold out for very long. Placing his elbows on the table, Tony leaned forward as if sharing a confidence. "If this is your idea of foreplay, Jethro, it just isn't working for me," he said with a smirk.

"It isn't foreplay, Tony. If it was, you'd know it."

Tony frowned at Gibbs and then he sat back, and his eyes slowly widened with realization. In a subdued voice, he said, "Oh. Oh, I see. This is an interrogation. Of course, to you that might be a kind of foreplay."

"It doesn't need to be an interrogation," Gibbs said evenly, not liking that he had told Fornell off for his intention to interrogate Tony, and yet here he was, doing exactly that. Well, at least it was _he_ who was doing the questioning, and not some stranger.

"God, I feel so stupid. Wow, I didn't see this coming." Tony let out a short laugh and turned away. It took him a minute to get his emotions in check but then he turned back to Gibbs with a tight smile on his face.

Tony's eyes were hard but Gibbs could see that he was deeply hurt. He wanted to reach out to him, to say something, but Gibbs reminded himself that this was a necessary evil. Tony had deflected his questions too many times in the past. One way or another, the truth would come out before either of them could leave this room. "You're not stupid, Tony. I need to know what's going on."

"Well, I'm sure you'll extract whatever it is you want to know in a jiffy, once you start sticking bamboo shoots under my fingernails." Tony wiggled his fingers in the air to illustrate his point.

Gibbs shook his head. "I doubt that will be necessary."

Tony raised his chin a little. "Then how about you start by asking me whatever's on your mind, Agent Gibbs? Because I'd really like to get on upstairs so you can fuck me, like you promised."

Gibbs almost laughed, and his dick perked up with interest. Tony was certainly ballsy. It wasn't easy to ignore the insistent voice that was encouraging him to take Tony up to bed and fuck him, as requested. What he had to do was think of Tony as a suspect. A suspect he had to extract information from. It was his job. He could do that. "Let's start with last night," said Gibbs in his best investigator's voice, a no-nonsense, 'you will tell me what I want if you know what's good for you' voice.

Tony blinked and then said, "Last night? It gets a pretty high rating. Lots of good loving, though it'll be a lot better when we can finally get down and dirty without worrying about your injuries."

"I'm talking about earlier," Gibbs snapped.

Tony frowned. "You mean at the airport?" He shrugged as if it didn't matter.

"Yeah, the airport," said Gibbs, raising his voice a little. "You were about to take off with your father," he accused. "You were going with him. Remember?"

Tony straightened his shoulders and said defiantly, "Yeah, I was going with him. So what? He was hurt, Jethro. I was going with him to the _hospital_."

Gibbs didn't buy that and he didn't care if Tony knew it. "I told you to come with me, but what did you do? You shut the door of that ambulance in my face and tried to leave!"

Tony dropped his eyes for the first time and he didn't say anything in his defense.

"You made a bargain with your father. I heard you tell him that you'd get him his money back." From the way Tony's head jerked up, Gibbs could tell that he hadn't realized he'd been overheard. It was Gibbs' turn to lean over the table. He stabbed in the air with his finger and demanded, "You tell me what your father has over you, and I swear I'll do everything in my power to take care of it."

"He doesn't have anything…" Tony's voice trailed off, but then he said, "I don't have to do what he says. He doesn't have any power over me."

"Don't give me that bullshit. Your dad has been bending you to his will for years. Ever since your mom died, isn't that right? He tells you to jump and you do it, without question. Now that you've started showing him you plan to have a life of your own, he's afraid. Yeah, he's scared shitless that he's gonna lose you, and he'll do whatever he can to keep you, leashed and at heel, like a good dog. And even if you give him a hard time, Tony, in the end you always give in. You do what he tells you to do. You're still Daddy's little boy, aren't you?"

Tony shook his head and said, with rising anger, "No. No I'm not! Don't call me that!"

"But you still do what he says, Tony, and I know it's because he's threatening you. You never would have gone with him otherwise. He's got something over you, but whatever it is, I can take care of it. I'll make sure the FBI throws every charge in the book against him. They'll lock him up and he'll never see the light of day again. You'll be free of him, and safe. But you just have to trust me," Gibbs pled.

Tony asked, almost fearfully, "What do you mean, you'll take care of it?"

"I mean I'll do whatever it takes to protect you."

For a second, Gibbs thought he'd gotten through to Tony, but Tony ran his fingers through his hair in a gesture of frustration. "He's not…Look, Jethro, this isn't something you can just walk in and take care of."

"What is it? Blackmail? Did you do something and he's holding it against you? Your dad wants his money back, Tony, and he'll run right over anyone standing in his way. That includes you. He doesn't care about you, don't you see that? He uses you, whores you out–"

"Stop!" Tony was shaking his head as if Gibbs was powerless to change things. "Don't, please don't. I…I _can't_. You don't understand!"

"Then help me to understand. That's all I'm asking, Tony. Let me help you." Tony shook his head side to side, denying that he needed help, or outright refusing it. It was a given that Tony had secretly transferred his father's millions out of the country, and committed a crime in doing so, but what if…? Fear clutched at Gibbs when a terrible thought crossed his mind: what if Tony had done something really bad? His mind went in a dozen different directions, but none of the situations he came up with seemed likely. Still, he asked cautiously, "Tony, have you done something? Are you in some sort of trouble? If you are, you know I'm here to help you."

"No, Jethro, I'm not in trouble. Not the way you mean," Tony said with another shake of his head. He managed a small smile. "There aren't any bodies buried in my basement, no touches of 'Arsenic and Old Lace.'"

"Then what the hell is going on? Does this have anything to do with the guy from Peru?"

"What? The guy from–? The man who bought the guns? What makes you think that I have anything to do with that? My dad made the deal with that man, not me! I'd never…"

He could tell that Tony was telling the truth, and he was greatly relieved. "But you met him," Gibbs said, pressing the matter.

"Well, yeah, we had dinner together, but I didn't know…" Tony narrowed his eyes and stared at Gibbs for a long moment. "What's going on? Why're you bringing him up, anyway?"

Going against his own rules, Gibbs reached across the table and took both of Tony's hands in his own. Just touching him, feeling his warm skin, his pulse, made Gibbs feel better, connected, even though it didn't change anything. "Explain to me, Tony, how you can say you love me when you can't even trust me. I mean, I have to ask, do you? Do you _really_ love me? Because right now I'm not at all sure about you, that you care for me as much as you say you do, or else you'd tell me everything."

"How…how can you _say_ that to me?" Tony jumped up, tearing his hands out of Gibbs' grip. His chair scraped along the floor noisily and he shouted, "How can you ask me something like that? I cannot believe–! Jesus, I can't–" He stepped back, staring in disbelief at Gibbs. "I love you more than _anything_. I've never felt like this, Jethro. Never! I never even knew _this_ existed," Tony cried, his voice shaking.

"Knew what existed?"

"This feeling," Tony said, one hand gripping the fabric of the sweatshirt, over his heart. "This feeling I get when I'm not near you, that I'm gonna die if I don't get to touch you, that I'll do anything for you – anything! And it scares me, Jethro, scares me so much, that I feel desperate."

Gibbs rose to his feet, too, and banged his fist on the table in anger. "But you keep stalling. You won't tell me what's going on, what the fucking bargain is that you've made with _your father_!" He said 'your father' with an inflection that revealed his intense hatred for the man, as if he was saying 'the devil.' "Tell me what he has over you, Tony, what he's forcing you to do!"

"He isn't forcing me to do anything!"

"Tell me right now, right _now_ , or we are done! Done! Tell me–"

Tony yelled back, cutting Gibbs off. "He isn't blackmailing me! _He_ isn't the one, all right? It's me! _Me!_ _I'm_ blackmailing my dad. He's fucked me over for the last time, and I'm the one holding all the fucking cards this time! All right? It's me! It's me!" His chest heaving, face contorted in pain, Tony staggered away from the table and ran upstairs.

Knowing he'd messed up royally by shouting, by losing his temper, and that things would probably never be the same between them again, Gibbs ran a hand roughly across his mouth. He found his hands were trembling so he clenched them into fists. After a series of deep breaths that did little to appease his wildly beating heart, he made for the stairs and went after Tony.

***–***

He found Tony, not in his room, but in the spare bedroom across the hall. It had been _their_ room before, his and Shannon's, a long time ago, in another lifetime. Now it was empty except for the minimum of furniture, a stripped-down bed and a nightstand he'd built himself, and some boxes of old clothes that, for some reason, he never found the time to go through.

Now Tony's suitcases took up one corner of the room, open with his belongings spilling out. A pair of dress shoes sat neatly next to the suitcases, a little to one side, and Gibbs wondered idly if they were those designer shoes that Tony had been so worried about. Tony had mentioned he'd gone down in the night to get his cases out of the back of the truck, and Gibbs had slept through it, drugged by Ducky's innocuous-looking pills.

Now Tony was lying face down on the mattress, his head turned away so Gibbs couldn't see his expression. Tony's shoulders tensed though, so he knew Gibbs was there.

"Can I come in?" asked Gibbs softly, his stomach uneasy while he waited for a reply.

Tony shrugged as if to say, 'Do whatever you want.'

Gibbs sighed and went to sit next to Tony on the bed. Not too close though. Had to give him some room. He could see Tony's cheek, flushed in an otherwise pale face; his eyes were open and he seemed to be staring at the curtainless window. "Talk to me," Gibbs said softly.

Tony mumbled, "Isn't much to tell."

"You had plenty to say earlier."

Tony replied, his voice subdued, "Sorry. I lost my temper."

Determined to gain Tony's trust, Gibbs replied, "You said what you felt. Not a hanging offense, Tony. And I pushed you, hard. That's what I do. I was wrong, treating you like a suspect. Only…it's not easy to remain objective when I'm close to you."

Tony was still tense, but he seemed to be watching Gibbs out of the corner of his eye. "You mean you get turned on?"

Gibbs gave a short laugh. "Oh yeah."

Tony turned halfway over and met Gibbs' eyes. He seemed curious more than anything, and Gibbs made sure that he kept an open expression, letting Tony in. Tony rolled over onto his back and his hip butted against Gibbs' rear end. "Like you can't think when I'm near you?"

"Sometimes it's damned hard," Gibbs admitted. He wanted to reach out and brush Tony's hair back from where it fell over his forehead, but he didn't dare. Tony had to make the first move.

"Yeah, me too." Tony's eyes were a bit red and he swiped them with his forearm and sniffed. "You…uh…you mad at me?"

"No. I'm not mad but I'd like you to tell me the truth. That's all, Tony. I know this isn't easy for you, but you can't keep whatever's going on to yourself any more."

Tony swallowed and looked away, thinking, but he seemed exhausted, and maybe that was what made him finally relent. He turned his head so he could face Gibbs and said, his voice rough with emotion, "I only want you to love me, Jethro. Nothing else matters."

"Well, I love you, and that isn't about to change anytime soon," said Gibbs, matter-of-factly. "I'm on your side. Just take a breath and tell me what's going on."

Tony sighed and he said, his voice so soft Gibbs could barely hear it, "I knew my dad wouldn't leave us alone, so I proposed something to him. I'd been thinking about it for a while, but the minute I got into the ambulance, to see how he was, he made it clear he was going to cause trouble. He's like that, a bulldog about most things. That's when I knew I had to do something." Gibbs waited while Tony collected his thoughts, and when Tony spoke again, his voice was stronger. He said, with conviction, "I told my father that he had to give the FBI the information they wanted, no holding anything back. In return I'd give him access to some of the money I'd transferred to a safe place. We hadn't finished talking when you came over to us, Jethro, and I needed another minute with him. That's why I shut the door on you. I didn't...I didn't want to."

Gibbs nodded to let Tony know he wasn't going to hold a grudge. "Your father – you're saying that he simply agreed to tell all to the FBI?"

"No, there was more to it. The FBI had already been pressuring him to tell them about the man who bought the weapons that Torres had intended to go to his Colombian friends."

"Yeah, I know. The buyer from Peru. General Arerros." Tony gave him a funny look so Gibbs asked, "That isn't right?"

"Well, that isn't his real name," Tony stated as if it was obvious.

He sat up, against the headboard, and Gibbs moved to sit right next to him. Their arms touched and it felt as though they'd managed to get past some hurdle and were now on a new level. "You know his name?" asked Gibbs.

"Of course. I mean, the guy wanted Dad to know exactly who he was. He was one cocky son-of-a-bitch, let me tell you. He hated Torres, and wanted him to know he'd stolen his shipment out from under his nose. Not that my father wanted to be the one to tell Torres, you understand, not unless he wanted a pair of cement boots and a long walk off a short pier, ya know?"

"You want to share this guy's name, maybe?"

"Oh, sure. Cezar Romero." At Gibbs' look of incredulity, Tony chuckled. "Yeah, that's what I thought, too. Cezar with a 'z' said that he got those funny looks a lot, when people heard his name, at least from anyone who remembered Cesar Romero in 'Weekend in Havana' or 'Captain from Castile' with Tyrone Power." Tony gave Gibbs a crooked smile and said, "They had an affair, you know, Cesar and Tyrone."

Gibbs knew that Tony must be feeling better if he was making movie references, but there were still some unanswered questions. "So you told your father to tell the feds everything he knew about this Cezar Romero. In return for a few million?"

Tony scratched his nose and shifted a little, and then he looked sideways at Gibbs. "Uh, I gave him access to an account that holds a million dollars."

Gibbs nodded, wondering who was blackmailing whom, the son or the father. "And you couldn't tell me any of this? Why?" He tried to keep the anger out of his voice, but wasn't entirely successful. "We need to trust each other Tony; you need to trust me."

"That's why I'm telling you this now." He fiddled with the material of his sweatpants and said, "At first Cezar made out that he had the backing of the Peruvian government. We were almost finished with our meal, dinner at the Ritz-Carlton – oh my God, they have this raspberry sorbet with dark chocolate – never mind. Anyway, so Cezar Romero started to boast about how he'd been the one behind the bombing of the El Peruano newspaper building a few months ago."

Gibbs nodded, letting Tony know he knew of the terrorist act that had claimed twenty people's lives, and injured dozens of others.

"Turns out that the people that Dad sold out to are fucking terrorists," said Tony, in disgust. "They've been targeting ships, too, especially foreign ones. They bombed an American Naval vessel in Colombia last year, and went after a Greenpeace ship in neutral waters."

Gibbs asked, "They ones that call themselves the Brillantosos?"

"You know them?"

"Spent some time down there," said Gibbs. "And I read the paper. They've been around for a long time, but the violence has escalated since their leader was killed."

"Well, this Cezar Romero, he's the new _pendejo_ running the show now. We left the restaurant as soon as we could. Dad wanted to get as far away from Cezar as he could. He was scared because of what he'd done, I think, dealing with a terrorist, especially now with all the close scrutiny about that kind of thing. He doesn't care who he does business with most of the time, but handing over a freighter full of big guns to a guy like that, a fanatic, much less having dinner with him in a fancy restaurant, did not go over well. He was petrified he'd be shipped off to Guantanamo."

Gibbs made a derisive sound but didn't interrupt.

"I think this is part of the reason that Dad decided it was time to pull up stakes and leave the country. He was already liquidating everything, but after meeting Cezar, it was like someone lit a fire under his tail. When we got home, I told Dad that we had to do something to stop this guy but he said it was already too late. He was freaking out. I've never seen him like that. I tried, I really did, to convince him to go to the authorities, but he wouldn't do it."

"So you got the ball rolling, hoping he'd confess once the FBI had him in custody."

"Stupid of me, huh?"

Gibbs looked into Tony's eyes and said clearly, "You, Tony DiNozzo, are not stupid. You're brave and smart, and up until just now, I didn't think I could love you any more than I do, but I do."

Tony stared at him, and a smile appeared, growing into one of his big, brilliant, all-encompassing smiles that made his eyes sparkle. "I thought you said you weren't a romantic, Leroy Jethro Gibbs." He leaned into Gibbs and kissed him, soft and sweet, trembling a little. "I think…"

"Mmm?" Gibbs murmured as he kissed Tony again.

"I think I'd better tell you the rest before we get any more…"

Gibbs pulled back and frowned. "There's more?"

"'Fraid so. I just need to explain a couple of things. I want you to know that I never intended on going anywhere with my father. To the hospital, of course, so I could make sure he was okay. I wasn't going to see him again, but when you barged into the ambulance, we hadn't quite finished our business."

"Your business."

"I didn't get the chance to tell him how to get into the account, and the name of the bank in Zurich," Tony explained.

"But you told him?"

"Well, yeah, though I barely had a chance before you reached in and handcuffed me, dragged me out of there," Tony said huffily, as if affronted.

"Huh. Good thing I did, or I never would've seen you again. He was going to bundle you off to the Middle East and sell you in the slave market."

Tony laughed. "No way. If Dad said that, it was just to jerk your chain, Jethro. He likes to poke at ant hills with a big stick. Anyway, I told him he had 12 hours to tell the FBI about Cezar. I'd call him so I could confirm that he'd spilled the beans, and only then would I give him the password."

Gibbs leaned back and looked hard at Tony. "You phoned him when you were out on your run," he accused.

"I'm sorry, but I couldn't tell anyone about it until it was a done deal. Dad made me swear to it. It was part of our bargain. Personally, I think he thought he'd get an eleventh-hour reprieve, like the death-row convict in 'Chained Heat', and would never have to admit to his connection with a terrorist," Tony said, shaking his head.

"And is it a done deal?" Gibbs still wasn't happy that Tony had kept all of this from him.

"Oh yeah. I talked to the agent in charge, and to Dad, and it's done. I had to be sort of sneaky about telling him the password. It's my mother's name, spelled backwards." Tony's expression softened and he slid his hand into Gibbs'. "I know you've been looking out for me. That's why I feel so bad about this. I didn't want to lie to you but I'd made a deal and I had to stick to it. I hope you understand."

"I don't understand why you had to give him a million dollars, Tony." He stiffened and asked, "It was only a million, wasn't it? And I can't believe I just said 'only' a million."

Tony smiled and ran his hand up and down Gibbs forearm in an affectionate gesture. "Of course it was _only_ a million. Anthony DiNozzo didn't raise his kid to be stupid." Tony shook his head. "Man, he was so pissed when I told him I'd only give him access to a million bucks, but it's enough to get him to wherever he wants to go. All I care is he'll be thousands of miles away from us."

"He'll be back for more," Gibbs warned.

Tony shrugged. "I told him I'd consider giving him another million if, and only if, he stays away from both of us for a year. Of course, by then, I'll probably have found a better use for all that money." He leaned into Gibbs and asked, suddenly serious, "Can you help me find a charity that focuses on helping abused men, or maybe one that helps homeless gay youths?"

"Of course, Tony." Gibbs squeezed Tony's hand, so proud of him. "This have anything to do with meeting Petty Officer Kovacs?"

Tony nodded. "Yeah. It's never easy to talk about the kind of thing he's been through. I should know."

"You went to a lot of trouble to arrange all this. Why didn't you just turn your father in?"

"I had to give him a chance to do the right thing, for once, Jethro. Besides, he's my dad."

There wasn't much Gibbs could say about that so made a non-committal sound.

"I didn't mean to hurt you, Jethro, and I didn't realize 'til just now how what I did was like betraying you. I should have told you but I shut you out and it was wrong. Maybe it's because I knew you'd tell me not to do it, and if you laid down the law then I would have done what you wanted. I knew that, so I didn't give you a chance. I didn't mean to mess up what we have together, and now I'm sorry for lying, for not being honest. I'll do better in the future."

Tony was looking at Gibbs as though he was afraid he wouldn't accept his apology, and they wouldn't have that future.

"No more secrets," Gibbs said, making it clear that this was the way it had to be.

"Okay."

"I mean it."

"I know you do. You're looking out for me."

"Damn right I am."

Tony ducked his head and smiled.

Gibbs asked, gruffly, "What?"

With a little shrug, Tony said softly, "It's nice, knowing you're there to watch my back."

Well, that's the way partners operate," Gibbs said, pulling Tony into a hug.

Tony buried his face in Gibbs' chest and his muffled voice said, "I didn't know. I never had anyone care about me like this before."

"Well, you do now. So get used to it."

"I like you when you're all gruff."

"Gruff? Me?"

"Mmm. Manly." Tony smiled but it turned into a yawn. "Can we spend the rest of the day in bed, like we planned to?"

"Sure," said Gibbs. He kissed Tony and then drew back suddenly. "Shit, Fornell is on his way over." As if on cue, there was a knock at the front door. "Hell, I'll take care of it. You stay right there," Gibbs ordered. Less than five minutes later he was back upstairs, calling to Tony, "I told him I was busy interrogating you so he left the photos for you to ID and…Tony?"

Tony was no longer in the spare bedroom. Gibbs did an about-face and followed the trail of clothing into his own bedroom, to find Tony lying on top of the covers, naked except for a pair of shiny gold nipple rings. Tony smiled invitingly. Gibbs didn't bother to say another word and he lost no time stripping off his own clothing. He joined Tony in bed and spent the entire afternoon showing him exactly how much he loved him.

***–*** end chapter 74 ***–***


	75. Smooth Sailing

Tony reclined on Gibbs' bed, wearing nothing but an enticing smile. He patted the mattress beside him. "Come over here, Marine, and warm me up. I believe you said something about…fucking me?"

Not needing any further encouragement, Gibbs accepted the invitation, his knees almost weak with anticipation. He stretched out beside Tony on the bed and kissed him, lingering when Tony opened up to him with a soft moan. "So damned beautiful," Gibbs said softly as his fingers traced over Tony's stomach muscles and down to his smooth, hairless groin. Although it turned him on, Gibbs didn't want to look too deeply into why that might be. His knuckles brushed against Tony's cock and it twitched in response. "This is beautiful, too," Gibbs said with a grin as he took possession of the hardening shaft.

"And there I was, thinking you weren't a romantic," Tony said, his eyes focused on Gibbs' hand working his cock from base to its tip in long, slow strokes. "Oh, that feels so…oh." Tony closed his eyes, his head pressing into the pillow as he arched into Gibbs' touch.

"Never assume." 

Tony licked his lips. "Never…assume…sounds like a rule." 

"Damn right, it's a rule." Gibbs said gruffly and leaned into Tony and kissed him deeply, sucking on his tongue for good measure. He kept up the slow strokes, his fingertips sliding up and down Tony's velvety shaft, knowing he was maddening Tony with the leisurely pace.

Tony clung to Gibbs' shoulders and thrust his cock into his hand, pleading, "Love me…"

"I plan to, don't you worry. We have plenty of time," said Gibbs with a smile. He made slow, sweet love to Tony, adoring him with every kiss and tender touch, coaxing his lover to a state of arousal in which he was flushed pink and writhing. Gibbs slid down and took Tony's cock in his mouth. Tony gasped and bucked his hips, but Gibbs held him down, his hand wrapped around the base of the shaft. He eagerly sucked on the head, swirling his tongue around it, enjoying the taste and feel of the hot flesh between his lips. 

Tony grasped fistfuls of Gibbs' short hair and thrust into his mouth. Gibbs wasn't sure about taking in much more of Tony's cock; it was going to take some getting used to. Tony gave another thrust and suddenly stiffened, his eyes going wide with surprise. "I'm gonna…"As soon as Gibbs tugged on Tony's balls, he came in his mouth, shouting, "Fuck!"

***–***

At first, Gibbs had reservations about taking Tony from behind even if he presented himself, on hands and knees, with his head down and his nicely muscled ass in the air. 

"You sure?" Gibbs asked, fondling Tony's rear end and wondering what it would be like to thrust his tongue into the pink, puckered asshole he could see when he parted Tony's ass-cheeks. Hell, never in a million years would he have thought that he'd want to do something like that, but suddenly, with Tony naked in his arms, a whole other world of possibilities was opening up before him.

Tony cast a look over his shoulder at Gibbs, too serious for words. "Yeah. I need this, Jethro, to make this really good. Something special, you know? I need to make this about us." 

Gibbs wrapped his arms around Tony's waist and hugged him to his chest in a warm embrace. Yeah, he knew exactly what Tony meant. "I get it. I don't want you to think you have to do anything, because I'm fine with whatever you feel is okay–"

"I want to," Tony said quickly and stretched to snag a tube of lube and a condom from the nightstand. Gibbs loosened his hold but kept his hand on Tony's back. Tony turned to face Gibbs, holding up the wrapped condom. "Studded condom," he said, a little shyly, as if asking for permission.

"You want to put it on me?" 

Tony nodded.

Gibbs ran his hand over Tony's silky hair, and watched Tony roll the condom down the length of his hard, dark cock. It felt a bit tight, and Gibbs had to suck in a sharp breath and will himself not to come just from Tony's casual touch. "Careful," he ground out. 

Tony applied some lube to his hand and gently pumped Gibbs' cock to spread it evenly along the rigid shaft. "You okay with this? You really don't mind?"

Gibbs couldn’t prevent making a little jerk of his hips, and he almost lost himself in the sheer pleasure he got from the way his cock slid across Tony's palm. Somehow he managed to ask, "Don't mind what?"

Tony released Gibbs' cock and wiped his hand on his thigh. He looked Gibbs in the eye when he said anxiously, "Mind that I've been around. You know, with men."

"Hey," Gibbs said sharply, coming back to earth in a hurry even though his cock was aching for more of Tony's magic touch. "This is you and me. There _is_ nobody else, Tony. Never will be, you got that?"

Tony swallowed hard and nodded, seemingly overcome, and Gibbs took his face in his hands and kissed the corners of his eyelids, slightly damp with tears, and his cheeks, and his tender lips, breathing, "You're mine. Besides, we're practically married, and married men should always eat at home." 

That brought a wondrous smile to Tony's face. "You know I'm going to hold you to that," he said.

"I expect as much," Gibbs replied, wondering what he was getting himself into, but then quickly dismissing his doubts. His heart was telling him that this was the right road to travel, and the happiness that emanated from Tony confirmed that they were making the right choice.

A while later, when they were clinging to each other and heavily panting into each other's ears, they started laughing breathlessly for some unknown reason. Maybe it was happiness or pure, unmitigated joy. Maybe it was relief. Hell, it didn't matter why; they were both happy, and they were together, and that was what counted.

***–***

Tony was on his knees with his head down and his ass in the air, clutching desperately at the sheets. His cries of, "Oh God! Oh God, please," were muffled by the bedding as Gibbs thrust into him. 

They'd tried a couple of positions already, but had settled for Gibbs standing at the side of the bed, thighs pressing against the mattress, hands gripping Tony's hips while he entered him from behind. Gibbs didn't even think about his injured leg; any pain could be endured, and indeed forgotten, when he was fucking Tony.

Gibbs knew he was being overly possessive but he savored the knowledge that Tony belonged to him – and _only_ him – and that nobody else would ever know the pleasure of Tony's body, except for him. _He_ was the one who made Tony's body tremble with anticipation; it was his hands, his mouth, his cock that made Tony moan and beg for more. They had connected the first moment they'd met, and Gibbs' sense that he and Tony belonged together, as crazy as it might seem, had strengthened with every passing day. 

He gave a quick succession of short, hard thrusts, then withdrew almost all the way before sliding once again into Tony's ass, in and out, keeping to a slow, deliberate rhythm. How tight Tony was, and how fucking hot, spreading his legs further apart and grunting as he pushed back on Gibbs' cock, impaling himself, demanding more when there was no more to give.

Gibbs kissed and licked along the curve of Tony's spine, making satisfied sounds as he leisurely made his way up to the back of Tony's neck. The nape seemed so vulnerable, the skin pale with its downy hairs almost blond in the late afternoon sunlight that slanted between the half-drawn curtains. Tony's warm, smooth skin tasted salty, and there was another flavor present that Gibbs had come to identify with his lover, one that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. He licked Tony's ear to get another taste of him and then playfully pulled at the earlobe with his lips.

"Jethro," breathed Tony, his voice hoarse. "I want…want…"

"You want more?" Gibbs teased, nipping at the muscle of Tony's shoulder and then licking the red mark he'd made. Cheerios, he thought, all of a sudden – he tastes like Cheerios – and that made Gibbs smile.

Tony's forehead rested on the bed, and he nodded weakly and said, "Mmm," apparently incapable of forming anything more coherent.

With a jerk of his hips, Gibbs sank in deep, his balls smacking against Tony's ass. Tony made an abrupt sound in the back of his throat, one of shock and pleasure, and his head came up off the bed. Gibbs set up a rocking motion, long and smooth strokes at first, then faster when his control began to slip. He sought purchase on Tony's waist, on his shoulders, slick with sweat, and blindly reached out to tangle his fingers in Tony's hair, while Tony rocked beneath him, moaning in time to every thrust. 

Gibbs paused, breathing heavily, his cock embedded inside Tony's body. With both hands, he reached around to caress Tony's chest and pinched Tony's nipples, pulling at one and then the other until they tightened into hard nubs. Tony shivered and gasped, his breathing uneven. Gibbs alternated doses of pleasure and pain with a few gentle strokes and then a tweak, a teasing flick or two with his fingertips followed by a sharp tug on a gold nipple ring, until Tony was whimpering and crying out, "Fuck, do it, just do it…"

Leaning into Tony, Gibbs held onto him with one arm while he ran a hand across his belly, feeling the muscles quivering under his fingers. He stroked the inside of Tony's thighs, where he was hot and sweaty, and cupped his weighty balls, fondling them. God, how he loved the way Tony swayed with him, following his lead, dancing with him. Gibbs kissed Tony's back and then withdrew partway, pausing for a moment before he drove his cock hard into Tony's body and pulled back again, setting up a steady tempo. He found himself moaning between clenched teeth as the friction from the studded condom caused his cock to swell inside Tony's tight, hot channel. 

Gibbs took hold of Tony's cock, stroking its velvety length, sliding his nail along the vein, rubbing the pad of his thumb over the soft head on every upstroke, fisting the rigid shaft every time Tony thrust helplessly into his hand.

Gibbs sped up the pace, his hips snapping in a quick succession of thrusts, not caring how rough he was, releasing some deep groans and a "fuck yeah" or two into Tony's ear. Tony was moaning, his muscles straining, crying out, "I'm coming, coming!" Gibbs' muscles were quivering with the strain, his heart pounding so loud it drowned out all other sound, holding back until he couldn’t bear it for a second longer and then he was coming, taking a quaking Tony with him. The smell of Tony's come, and the heat of it as it pulsed between his fingers and splattered across the sheets, sent Gibbs over the edge. He gave one last heave, and came with a shudder and collapsed on top of his lover in a tangle of limbs.

***–***

Any doubts that he may have had about Tony's trust in him disappeared that afternoon. It wasn't just the way Tony opened up to him without any reservations, offering his body, his beautiful ass, to fuck, but the way he looked at him that convinced Gibbs. Tony had utter faith in Gibbs, and that alone told him they'd turned an important corner. But there was more in Tony's eyes than the trust that Gibbs had been seeking; Tony's eyes shone with confidence, too.

Tony took the lead at one point, coaxing Gibbs to get on all fours on the bed so he could lie underneath him and suck his balls and pull on the loose skin with his lips. Once Gibbs got used to the feeling of having his ass in the air and hovering over Tony's face, he got into it, undulating his hips so his balls dipped into Tony's open mouth. Between the slide of the hot tongue and the suction on his balls, Gibbs didn't stand a chance, but it was Tony's slicked-up finger penetrating his asshole that hit the spot, and he came all over Tony's chest with a strangled yelp that was unlike any sound he'd ever made before. 

***–***

Relaxed and sleepy, Tony shifted into a more comfortable position, which meant draping himself across Gibbs' chest. Amused at the snuffling sounds that Tony was making, Gibbs smiled and gently ran his hand up and down Tony's back. He may be tired and achy, but he was also unbelievably happy. And sated, he thought with a grin. The last time he'd felt this content was…well, it seemed as though it was a lifetime ago. 

Pushing thoughts of the past aside, Gibbs started to plan what he and Tony would do in their last couple of days together before Tony had to return to college in Ohio. There were some things Gibbs wanted to catch up with in the morning but maybe they could go sailing in the afternoon. They could spend two days on the water. The forecast through Saturday night was good, and it was due to be unusually warm for late winter. They should take advantage of the brief time they had remaining because on Sunday morning, Gibbs had to take Tony to the airport, and send him back to college. It was not something he was looking forward to. 

Gibbs dozed for a while, and when he woke, the sun was setting and Tony was snoring softly against his chest. He'd give him a few more minutes and then he'd wake him. They should shower, find something to eat. For some reason, his thoughts turned to Shannon. Early in their courtship she had asked him what he wanted out of life. He'd been young and at that time he'd had no thoughts of his future beyond the Marines, but he'd known he wanted her, and not only in a physical way. There had been no doubt and he'd said so.

It was like that now; Gibbs knew what he wanted. In fact he'd never been so sure of anything. He wanted Tony. That was it, in the simplest of forms. He wanted him by his side, permanently, wanted them to live and love together for the rest of their lives. It was a lot to ask for, and Gibbs knew the drill: people left, they died. He knew that, all too well. But, for the first time in a long time, Gibbs not only had hope, but he had the expectation that somehow this thing with Tony – okay, it was a _relationship_ and he'd better get used to calling it that – was going to work. He let out a quiet laugh, realizing that he, like Tony, had faith.

How the hell they were going to _make_ it work was a whole other thing to consider. Being open to the world about his sexual preferences was not an option he'd choose, but he wasn't going to lie about his relationship with Tony, if anyone asked. He might choose not to answer, of course, and he could always glare at them in the hopes that he could avoid replying. Hell, everyone who mattered already knew, and what was amazing was that none of them, not Fornell or Mike Franks, or Jenny, or even Ducky, had said much of anything at all. It was extraordinary to be so accepted and Gibbs knew how lucky they were. 

Tony stirred a little and sighed in his sleep, and Gibbs looked down at him and smiled. Tony's kiss-swollen lips were parted and warm puffs of breath stirred Gibbs' chest hairs. One hand lay possessively on Gibbs' belly, fingers twitching now and then, and Gibbs was overcome by a wave of love for him that made him close his eyes and take a deep breath. He realized that he'd never felt this committed, this _sure_ about them until now, and although the feeling was scary as hell, and made his heart beat fast, he knew that it was right.

All too soon they'd be separated by hundreds of miles, by their different lives and pursuits. He'd have to take Tony to the airport, say goodbye to him in public. God, he'd have to act as if everything was okay, that it wasn't breaking his heart to watch Tony walk away. Knowing that Tony would be back in a couple of months to spend the summer with him should ease his separation anxiety, but Gibbs had a feeling he was going to go crazy just the same, missing Tony and aching for him. 

He'd have to work through it, literally. Get back to work, even if it meant sitting at a desk until he was cleared for the field. Keeping busy was the answer, would take some of the edge off. At least they'd have the whole summer together, barring any long-term investigations that took him away from DC. There were sure to be plenty of obstacles, tough times to deal with, but Gibbs told himself that he would – no, _they_ would – deal with them as they came.

***–*** end chapter 75 ***–*** 


	76. Loose Ends

"C'mon, Tony. Stop foolin' around and get dressed." Gibbs tried, unsuccessfully, to wrest his freshly laundered t-shirt out of Tony's grasp. They were in the narrow laundry area at the top of the basement stairs, and Tony was buck naked. "I need my shirt," Gibbs said, refusing to let go of it. At least Tony wouldn't be able to get his jeans off him so easily, thought Gibbs.

"Not for this, you don't." Tony body-blocked Gibbs and yanked his shirt out of his hands. He laughed and tossed it over his shoulder, and leered at Gibbs' bare chest. "Mmm, nice pecs you've got here, Marine." He massaged Gibbs' chest muscles with his palms and rubbed around his nipples with his thumbs. "I'll bet this feels sooo good. You like this?"

"Tony…" Gibbs warned. He half-heartedly pushed at Tony's bare shoulders but Tony leaned into him, grinning wickedly, and they wrestled like a couple of teenagers.

"I am gonna take really good care of you," Tony promised. He used his weight to press Gibbs against the dryer and gave him a hot, demanding kiss.

Gibbs struggled for a few seconds before giving up. With a growl, he angled his head and plunged his tongue into Tony's mouth, making sure the younger man knew who was in charge. God, Tony was so intoxicating, with the whines of pleasure he made when Gibbs sucked on his lower lip. He grasped Tony's ass in both hands and roughly pulled him forward so their groins collided, kissing him deeply until the room was spinning and his heart was pounding. Tony pulled back with a gasp and Gibbs let him go, thinking that maybe the friction of his jeans against Tony's exposed genitals had been too much for him.

Instead of moving away, Tony dropped to his knees, popped the button of Gibbs' jeans and lowered the zipper. "I am gonna make you feel good…again." He delved into Gibbs' pants and groped him through his underwear.

A sudden flush of desire heated Gibbs' face. Yeah, Tony had been making him feel good all afternoon, and he had pretty much worn him out. "Hey, c'mon, Tony. The food'll be here any minute. I need to…uh…turn the porch light on." He couldn't believe he'd just said that. He was saying no to sex? Gibbs shook his head. He was tired but Tony seemed to have an endless capacity for sex.

He'd been the same at Tony's age, with his dick influencing a lot of his actions, though he hadn't had much opportunity to get down and dirty with any girls back in the small town of Stillwater. And then he'd met Shannon and until they were married they'd engaged in little more than kisses and petting. Holding back for those nine months before the wedding had just about driven him up the wall, and his hand had had a damned good workout every single night, but he'd never regretted waiting for her. It was the same with Tony, in a way, even if they'd had their fair share of sex in the short time they'd known each other. Gibbs would wait for him, remain faithful, until Tony came back to him.

Tony dragged Gibbs' jeans and underwear down his legs and took a gentle hold of his hardening cock. "You want to feel my mouth on your dick, Jethro? Want me to suck it 'til you come down my throat? Or maybe you want to come on my face…"

Shit. "Uh, the porch light?" Tony's words made him ache for those lips to be wrapped around his cock.

"I already turned it on," Tony said absent-mindedly. He gave the head of Gibb's cock a tentative lick. It twitched and rose a little higher, and Tony smiled as if he'd done something clever. "Looks like it isn't the only thing I turned on."

"I just washed these jeans," Gibbs protested weakly, finding it hard to breathe.

"I won't spill a drop." Tony gave Gibbs' cock another lick, and then took it into his mouth. He played with his tongue around the head, and sucked a bit, then stuck the tip of his tongue into the slit of Gibbs's cock-head.

Gibbs jerked at the shock that zipped right down to his balls. He grabbed Tony's shoulder and gasped, "Shit, that feels good…do it again."

Tony wrapped his hand around the base of Gibbs' shaft and smiled up at him, then took its length into his mouth. He teased the slit and then sucked and licked at Gibbs' cock earnestly, from the root to the tip, and did a fluttery thing with his tongue right behind the head that made Gibbs rise to his toes with a high moan and scrabble for purchase on Tony's shoulders. "God, Tony…"

Gibbs grabbed Tony's hair and gave a tug, though he wasn't sure if it was to encourage him or to stop him from going any further. Okay, he wasn't crazy enough to _stop_ Tony, but they'd already given each other hand jobs while in the shower. They'd had to make it fast because there was a limited amount of hot water in the house. It hadn't taken much to push them over the edge, ejaculating over their stomachs, then practically collapsing in each other's arms, weak-kneed and laughing for no other reason than it felt good and so right. They had finished rinsing off about the same time the water got cold, and had gone downstairs to get clean clothes out of the dryer.

Only Tony had other ideas, and now Gibbs wasn't sure that he had a lot left to give.

Tony was humming away happily while he did some things with his tongue that had Gibbs jerking his hips, making little thrusts into Tony's mouth. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Gibbs worried that he shouldn't be going at it quite so vigorously, but Tony wasn't objecting. Far from it – his eyes were half-closed, his moist, pink lips were wrapped around Gibbs' dick, and he had a look of bliss on his face. Tony rolled Gibbs' balls in his palm and stroked them with his thumb, and every time he gave them a tug, ever so gently, Gibbs' toes would curl and he'd dig his fingers into Tony's shoulders and breathe out, "Yeah."

Tony slowly increased the suction of his hot, tight mouth, and his hand slid up and down the shaft, meanwhile doing some moaning of his own while he humped Gibbs' leg. When Gibbs was good and hard, and breathing raggedly, Tony sucked enthusiastically on the swollen crown, and pressed his fingers against the spot behind Gibbs' tight, aching balls. Driven over the edge, Gibbs grabbed a fistful of Tony's hair and came into his mouth with a hoarse shout of "Fuck! Fuck!"

He collapsed against the dryer, dragging Tony with him, only vaguely aware that the younger man had come all over his leg.

***–***

"Hey, anybody home? Gibbs? It's Fornell." … "Oh." … "Uh…I'll wait…in the other room."

***–***

Gibbs' face burned hotly, thinking about Fornell walking in on them like that. God, imagine what the FBI agent must have seen: the two of them going at it like a couple of horny teenagers, Tony eagerly sucking on his cock while Gibbs held on for dear life and shot his load into Tony's mouth, shouting obscenities.

***–***

Before facing Fornell, Gibbs made himself decent. After wiping the jism off himself with a towel, he pulled up his jeans, which had some of Tony's come splattered on one pants' leg. Gibbs hurriedly put on his now wrinkled t-shirt, and went out into the kitchen to see what the hell Fornell wanted.

Tony followed, only half dressed in a pair of faded blue jeans despite Gibbs telling him to put a shirt on. "I need a drink," said Tony. He headed straight for the sink and drank directly out of the tap with noisy slurps, and when he saw Tony's ass in the jeans, Gibbs realized they were his own, and not Tony's.

Gibbs turned on Fornell and asked, "You just barge in wherever you please?"

"Hey, I knocked," Fornell insisted, waving his arm in the direction of the kitchen door.

Gibbs scowled and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Didn't think I needed a warrant," Fornell said with an unapologetic smile.

They stood in the middle of his kitchen like gunfighters facing off over water rights. Tony walked over and stood at Gibbs' elbow. He wiped his mouth on his forearm and grinned like it was all some kind of joke. Gibbs turned his glare on him, and Tony managed to tone down his amusement.

Gibbs caught Fornell eyeing Tony's bare chest, where his bruises and burns stood out on his pale skin. Looked like he'd lost the band-aids in the shower. Or maybe the FBI agent was finding the little gold nipple rings interesting. Either way, Gibbs wasn't having any of it. He ordered curtly, "Get a damned shirt on, Tony." Talk about déjà vu all over again.

This time, Tony did as he was told. He went into the laundry and snagged one of Gibbs' t-shirts out of the dryer and returned, dragging it over his head. His nipple rings could be seen through the fabric of the white tee, and when Gibbs saw that Fornell was still staring, he warned, "Hey!"

Startled, Fornell tore his eyes away. "What? I _did_ knock," he said in his own defense. "Twice. Guess you didn't hear me." He raised one eyebrow meaningfully.

Gibbs demanded testily, "You want something, Fornell?"

"Other than a free peep show? Reminds me of the boardwalk at Coney Island." Fornell raised his hands and backed off a couple of steps when Gibbs growled and made a move towards him. "Okay, okay, I won't mention it again."

"No, you won't," said Gibbs.

"Fine. It never happened."

"Damn right it didn't."

"Interesting interrogation technique, though," said Fornell with a smirk.

Tony let out a laugh but Gibbs shouted, "Hey!"

"I think you need to actually _ask_ questions for it to be a bona fide interrogation." Tony had a smug look on his face that disappeared the moment Gibbs slapped the back of his head. "Ow! What's that for?"

"Behave," said Gibbs, looking meaningfully at Tony.

Tony rubbed his head, scowling at Gibbs. He turned to Fornell and asked politely, "Would you like a drink? Coffee? There's a bottle of bourbon in the cupboard over the fridge. I don't think Jethro's finished it off yet; there might be a shot or two left."

Gibbs' hand twitched and Tony moved a couple of feet away.

"Sure," said Fornell, and at the same time, Gibbs stated firmly, "No. He isn't staying."

Tony looked from one man to the other and then said, "I thought there were some photos you wanted me to look at?"

Gibbs belatedly remembered the photos that Fornell had left earlier. "Fine. They're in there." He indicated that they were on the dining room table, where he'd tossed them several hours ago.

They all moved into the dining room, and Fornell opened the large manila envelope of photographs and spread them across the table. "Tony, I need you to tell me if you can recognize the man your father met in New York, the Peruvian, in any of these photos."

Tony took a breath, straightened his shoulders, and stepped up to the table. He scanned them all quickly and stabbed a finger at one photo. "That's him. That's Cezar Romero."

Fornell looked at the photo Tony had chosen, with interest. "You're sure now?" It was of a group of protesters at a rally, taken with a telephoto lens. The people's features were a bit fuzzy, and both Gibbs and Fornell looked at Tony to ensure he was positive.

Tony nodded. "That's the man who had dinner with my father and me in New York, who told us his name was Cezar Romero. When he approached my father a couple of weeks earlier, he used a different name, made it sound all official. But once they'd done the deal, and the guy had the info about the freighter, and Dad had the payment safely in his account, Cezar took my dad to dinner and told him is real name."

Fornell narrowed his eyes and asked, "Your father took you along to this business dinner?"

"Yeah, that's what he always did."

Fornell was looking at Tony as if expecting more of an explanation and Tony glanced at Gibbs. Gibbs nodded, letting him know it was okay. This wasn't news to the FBI agent, that Senior had used his own kid to sweeten the deal.

Tony's ears colored up a little when he said, "You know, I was the cherry on top."

"Ah." Fornell cleared his throat and said, "So this man then revealed his true identity to you."

"Yes, but his name didn't mean anything to either of us. I knew something wasn't kosher, but it wasn't until he boasted about all the shit he'd been doing, bombing and stuff, that Dad got the full picture."

"What kind of stuff?" Fornell asked with interest.

"Cezar admitted he was behind the bombing of a newspaper in Lima, and he said his people had taken out an American Naval ship, and they were going after all enemy ships in their waters. A homegrown army fighting off what they saw as enemy invaders. He was obviously proud of it; he seemed zealous, determined."

Fornell gathered up the photographs, looking determined in his own way. "You've been very helpful, Tony. We've never been able to put a name to his face. He came out of nowhere, another homegrown terrorist with big plans, and he managed to keep his identity secret until now."

Tony said, "Maybe he was waiting 'til he got hold of the weapons, because he definitely wasn't shy about telling us who he was. My father ID'd Cezar for you, right? He _did_ give the guy up, right?"

"Yes, he did, though DiNozzo was under duress, apparently." Fornell nodded at Tony. "I get the feeling your father wouldn't have spoken up if you hadn't insisted he act like a decent human being, for once, and do the right thing."

Tony seemed uncomfortable about taking any credit for coercing his father into helping the FBI, and he shot a glance at Gibbs as if he were unsure of what to say. "Dad would have told you eventually. He's used to bargaining, that's all," he said with a brief shrug.

Fornell snorted. "Mr. DiNozzo told the agents who took his statement that you had _reminded_ him of his duty to his fellow Americans. He swore he would do everything in his power to aid in bringing Cezar Romero, and other terrorists who have targeted our people in Latin America, to justice."

Gibbs said sarcastically, "What a guy. If he was such a patriot he shouldn't be out there selling heavy weapons to whoever came along with the biggest bankroll."

Fornell agreed, "Yeah, well, of course this was _after_ DiNozzo had secured an agreement that all charges against him would be dropped, that his property would be returned, and that he'd be released immediately."

Gibbs said sourly, "Of course."

"Has my dad been released yet? Has he…gone?" asked Tony in a quiet voice.

"Not yet, son. Should be soon, though. Arrangements are being made right now for him to fly to the Middle East, as he requested. My boss wanted your confirmation on the ID first." Fornell glanced at Gibbs and then placed a hand on Tony's shoulder. "I'll give you a call as soon as I've confirmed he's out of the country, okay?"

"Thank you, sir." Tony shook hands with Fornell and retreated into the kitchen, leaving the two federal agents alone. Gibbs' eyes followed Tony as he went to the fridge and poured himself a glass of juice. He watched the young man lean against the counter as if all his energy had drained away. Only after Gibbs was satisfied that Tony was okay, and just needed a little time to himself, did he turn back to Fornell.

They talked shop for a few minutes and then Gibbs escorted the agent to the front door. He stepped outside and closed the door behind them. "You make sure that bastard leaves the country, Fornell," Gibbs said grimly. "Or else I'll have to deal with him."

Fornell nodded. "I wouldn't expect any less from you, Gibbs. Been interesting working with you." They shook hands and Fornell said, "He's a good man. Your Tony."

"Yeah, he is," Gibbs responded, his pride in Tony showing in his voice.

"Uh, there isn't any chance that any of DiNozzo Sr.'s missing millions will turn up, is there, Agent Gibbs?"

Gibbs replied, "Wouldn't know anything about DiNozzo's money, Agent Fornell."

"Hmmm. I figured as much. Had to ask though."

"I'm sure that if the money _did_ turn up," mused Gibbs, "it would be in the hands of a charitable cause, where it'd do some good. 'Course I'm only guessing."

"Of course." Fornell pulled his car keys out of his jacket pocket and started to leave.

"Fornell? One more thing." Gibbs shifted his weight off his injured leg, which was throbbing dully, and rested a hand on one of the porch pillars. "I'd prefer it if the world didn't know about Tony and me."

"I'll be the soul of discretion. I'm not sure the world could handle that kind of information, anyway," Fornell said with a smirk. He stepped off the porch, raising a hand good-bye, and headed for his FBI-issue sedan.

Right after Fornell drove away, a small van pulled up in front of the house and a delivery boy hustled up to the door with a large white paper back in his hand. "Your order from The Golden Chicken, Mr. Gibbs?"

***–***

Tony was pretty quiet throughout dinner, and Gibbs didn't push him to open up. They talked about movies, the sights around DC, and sports, mostly. When it came time to break open their fortune cookies, Gibbs said read his and said, "Someone had you in mind when they wrote this, Tony. 'A closed mouth gathers no feet.'"

"Oh yeah, well this one has Leroy Jethro Gibbs written all over it. It says, 'Make two grins grow where there was only a grouch before.'"

"You're making that up," Gibbs said as he grabbed for the small slip of paper. "Who the hell writes these things anyway?"

"Apparently someone far smarter than either of us," quipped Tony. "It's okay, Jethro. I love the grouch just the way he is." He leaned over the table and gave Gibbs a light kiss on the mouth.

Gibbs grunted. "Yeah, well, I love…"

"You love what?" Tony prompted.

"I was gonna say that I love your open mouth," he said with a laugh.

"Yeah, I could tell," Tony said with a grin. He rose and started to clear up their trash but he halted in mid-stride and asked, "Talking of open mouths, you don't think Fornell really saw anything, do you? He was just kidding, right?"

Gibbs rolled his eyes in reply.

***–***

After they'd cleaned up the kitchen, Gibbs led Tony down to the basement and showed him around the sailboat that he was building. They spent a couple of hours down there, with Gibbs teaching Tony about the process of building the craft. So far he had only the hull built, and it looked a bit like a beached whale sitting upside down on large supports. They sanded the rough planks that Gibbs had steam-bent and shaped with hand tools, and simply enjoyed being close without any agenda.

When they went up to the living room, Gibbs lit the logs in the fireplace and the two men settled on the couch. Gibbs picked up the copy of _The Firm_ he'd been reading, and after making some complaints about Gibbs not have a TV and living in the dark ages, Tony seemed content to lean against him while working on the Post's crossword puzzle.

"One across is five letters: dominant. No letters yet," mused Tony aloud.

"Alpha," said Gibbs, his lips twitching in amusement.

"Okay, how about 'ribbon fish'? Seven letters. You fish, right?"

"Oarfish. It's a tropical fish, 30-feet long."

"Doesn't sound too good to eat but it'd sure make a lot of fish sticks. Okay, so now the answer to dominant starts with an O. How about 'on top.' It doesn't say it's two words, though," Tony griped as he wrote the answer in pencil.

Gibbs hugged Tony and kissed his temple, murmuring into his hair, "I'll show you the meaning of 'on top' tonight." Tony turned into him with a bright smile, and they kissed, slow and lazy, and Tony relaxed in Gibbs' arms. For a long while their world narrowed to their mouths and hands and mingling breaths. Eventually, when they parted, it was as gently as they'd come together, and Tony dropped his head on Gibbs' chest with a contented sigh. Gibbs didn't mind at all; it had been a while since he'd had anyone to simply _be_ with like this, and he'd missed this kind of warm intimacy.

When Tony seemed in danger of falling asleep in his arms, Gibbs put his book aside and asked, "Interested in going sailing with me on Chesapeake Bay? I've got stuff to do tomorrow but the weather's gonna be good on Saturday."

That woke Tony up. He raised his head to look at Gibbs. "Can we? Isn't it sort of cold to be out on the water?"

"We don't have to go if you don't want to," Gibbs said, belatedly realizing that Tony might not feel comfortable going out on the open water after nearly being drowned a the lake by Senator Harding. That was only a week ago, after all, and just because Tony hadn't spoken about it much, didn't mean it hadn't affected him. Gibbs was ready to hear his plan shot down. That was okay. He didn't mind what they did, even it was hanging around the house. "I just want to be with you," said Gibbs.

Tony smiled understandingly. "I want to be with you, too. I always feel safe with you, Jethro. And there's no way I'm gonna let anything stop me from enjoying our time together. But yeah, sure, I want to go sailing with you."

Gibbs kissed him, loving the way Tony's lips responded with gentle yet ardent pressure, and loving the trust revealed in his words, too. When they parted, he kept his arms around Tony and said, "Good. We'll need to stock up on supplies tomorrow. Need groceries. Find you some warm clothes. I'll call my buddy at the marina in Annapolis and make sure he has a boat available, okay?"

"Okay." After a while Tony sighed contentedly and after a while he said, "This is nice."

"What? Cuddling?"

"Yeah, but I meant…all of this. Nice memories to take back with me. So when I'm alone I can still be with you. Nobody's ever been there for me before. Not like this. Except my Mom, I guess, and that was a long time ago."

Touched by Tony's words, Gibbs hugged him. "They're good memories for me, too, Tony. Let's get ready for bed. Got a lot to do tomorrow."

***–***

They lay in bed in each other's arms, not quite asleep. Tony wriggled a bit until his cheek was resting on Gibbs' t-shirt-covered chest, the hair on top of his head brushing against Gibbs' chin.

"Jethro," Tony whispered.

"Mmm?" Gibbs didn't open his eyes, just ran his hand lazily up and down Tony's bare arm.

"Nothing. Just wanted to say your name."

Gibbs could feel Tony smiling against his chest, and he placed a kiss on Tony's hair and whispered, "Tony."

"Mmm?"

"Love you, too."

"Jethro?"

Gibbs was almost asleep, but he murmured, "Mmm?"

"I wasn't the cherry on top for Cezar. We left before it got that far."

"I figured as much."

"Just wanted you to know," said Tony quietly.

Gibbs kissed him and said, "Doesn't matter. Go to sleep now."

"Jethro?"

Gibbs sighed.

"I don't want to go," said Tony in a small voice.

It took a couple of seconds for what Tony had said to sink in. "Well, we can do something else, Tony. I don't mind."

"No, I didn't mean I don't want to go sailing." Tony rose up on one elbow and looked down at Gibbs, resting his hand on his chest. "I don't want to go back to Ohio, to college."

Gibbs shifted so he could meet Tony's eyes, but the bedroom was too dark to make out his expression. "I don't want you to go, either," he said carefully. "But I think you need to go."

Tony tensed but he nodded. "I understand. You need to get back to your life," he said, unable to disguise his disappointment.

"Well, yeah, I'm due back at work Monday morning, but that's not what I meant. Look, the past week has been…well, it's been one hell of a ride, and one I never expected, Tony, but I couldn't be happier than when I'm with you. You've given me something I never thought I'd have again, and I love you all the more for it. But you need to get back to your normal routine, to take time to be yourself again. Go to classes, parties, be with your friends, play some sports. And soon enough, you'll come back here, live with me for the summer. We'll spend time together, get to know each other better, without all the crap we've had to deal with. Without your father and the FBI interfering every ten minutes, without getting shot at by missiles and God knows what else." Tony didn't say anything, so Gibbs rubbed his hand up and down Tony's arm.

"Back to normal," Tony said quietly.

"Yeah." The last time they'd had a conversation about what normal meant to each of them, they'd had one hell of a fight. Gibbs did not want a repeat of that. "Maybe we need to make our own normal," he offered.

Tony shifted a bit, remaining close to Gibbs, and Gibbs held him in a loose embrace, waiting for Tony to sort out whatever he was thinking.

Once he'd found a comfortable position, Tony said, "The only thing is, I don't know what normal is for me. It was going to classes, and partying – a lot – and playing sports, like you said, but it was also flying to New York whenever my father summoned me, doing whatever he wanted. That was normal to me."

"It's not like that any more, Tony. You know that," Gibbs said.

"Well, maybe I don't want to go back to college," said Tony defiantly. "I went to Ohio State because I knew it would piss off my Dad. Now he's out of the picture, I can do anything I want."

"Look, earlier, you asked me to help you out, to tell you what to do because you weren't sure of yourself." Tony nodded and Gibbs continued, "Trust me on this, Tony. You need a routine. A chance to figure things out, to be yourself. And you need to finish your education, whether it's at Ohio State or somewhere else, it doesn't matter. But I don't want you to quit, not now. It's only a few weeks before the semester is over, right? Then can come home. I'll be here, waiting. Horny and waiting," he added, smiling in the dark.

Tony asked, "Home?"

"Always your home," promised Gibbs.

"That's good," Tony said with a yawn.

Gibbs had just fallen asleep when Tony's voice whispered in his ear, "Did you say horny?"

***–*** end chapter 76 ***–***


	77. Heart

Gibbs awoke suddenly, unsure what was wrong; he thought he'd heard something. He could just about make out the dark shape that was Tony, huddled under the blanket, facing away from him. Tony was mumbling in his sleep and his leg was moving like he was trying to shake something off. Gibbs reached out cautiously, hoping to wake him from what sounded like a bad dream, but before he had the chance, Tony rolled over with a big sigh and ended up with his face pressed into Gibbs' ribs, one hand clutching at his shirt. Carefully, Gibbs got his arm free from where it was pinned under Tony's body, and held him tightly. It felt good to have the weight of another person pressed against him. He'd miss this, the intimacy, the sex, sharing his home and his life with someone he cared deeply about. 

The dream was apparently over, and Tony slept on, but for Gibbs, sleep was elusive. It didn't matter; he was content to merely hold his sleeping lover in his arms, taking comfort from his presence. Gibbs gently combed his fingers through Tony's hair, slightly damp with sweat, and let his hand rest on his bare back.

Every time he touched Tony – whether it was a simple hug, a light brush of fingers along his ribs, the wet slide of his tongue across a pert nipple, or rubbing his unshaven cheek along Tony's inner thigh – Gibbs felt closer to him than anyone in the world. Every taste and texture turned Gibbs on like nothing else could. He was fascinated by the way Tony's skin was taut over his muscles and loose over his balls, softly damp under his arms and velvet-smooth along the length of his shaft, but the appeal, the incredible pleasure Gibbs got from Tony, was entirely due to the way Tony reacted to his every caress. 

One touch, that was all it took, and Tony's head went back, his eyes closing slowly, eyelashes fluttering against his heated cheeks, as if he were completely powerless in Gibbs' hands. His lips parted with moans of ecstasy, begging for _more, more, fuck, please_. It was that utterly wanton expression that lit up Tony's face when he was about to come that caused Gibbs to draw in a deep breath of wonder; it was the way Tony tweaked his own nipples and arched his back, head turning from side to side on the pillow as he pled for what only Gibbs could give him. It was the way he reached out with desperate hands and clung to Gibbs as if he feared he'd be abandoned, and the way Tony relaxed with a whimper every time Gibbs assured him that he'd never let him go.

That Tony was all _his_ was a given, but what got to Gibbs was that _he_ belonged to Tony, too, because if Tony reacted a certain way when Gibbs touched him, Gibbs responded to his lover's touch – and sometimes all it took was a _look_ – in much the same way. Hell, he got a hard-on from merely brushing against Tony when they passed in the hallway, and once he got a whiff of his just-got-out-of-bed scent, well, Gibbs was a goner. Who'd have guessed that he'd be so turned on by that combination of last-night's sex, a hint of coffee that Tony dabbed behind his ears, and that masculine smell that was simply…Tony.

***–***

It was going to be a busy day so when it rolled around to 0730 Gibbs woke Tony up with a nudge and a kiss to the top of his head. At first Tony groaned and buried under the covers, but when he discovered Gibbs' morning erection, he laughed sleepily and took matters into his own hands. The blowjob got things heated up but it wasn't enough. Gibbs dragged Tony out from under the bedding and flipped him onto his back. It soon became a full-blown fuck-Tony-into-the-mattress bout of sex, with Tony's legs hiked over Gibbs' shoulders, and Gibbs driving into him so hard that Tony ended up jammed against the headboard. The whole fucking bed was rocking so violently it was about to collapse under them, and Tony was digging his fingers into Gibbs' ass and screaming, "Fucking come on, come on!" Gibbs arched his back and jerked, calling out Tony's name, and a couple of seconds later Tony gasped and came all over Gibbs' belly.

Afterwards, when they were wiped out and lying tangled in the messy sheets, Gibbs didn't care that he had a stupid smile on his face. He'd earned it.

Tony turned to him with a tender and indulgent look in his eyes, as if he were the master, and Gibbs was a novice who was still learning the ropes. 

Maybe, in a way, that was true, because Gibbs was still learning, and trying to figure things out, like if this meant he was gay, or bisexual or whatever the hell. Not that it mattered. He was the same guy he'd always been, though now he had a lot more experience than a couple of weeks ago, before he'd brought Tony home.

"It seems," said Tony, never taking his eyes off Gibbs'. "It seems like everything I ever did, everything I ever was, was just practice, and this is the real thing, the real game. The past, all the bad shit, is _nothing_ any more, because loving you, right here and now, _this_ is what matters." He smiled and his eyes were sparkling, and when Gibbs touched his cheek and their foreheads met, Tony's smile broadened along with Gibbs' until they were both grinning.

"You quoting from a movie?" asked Gibbs, teasing a bit, covering for the fact that he was moved by Tony's words.

Tony shook his head slowly. "No. Those words are for you alone, Jethro, because you're _everything_ to me, and I want you to know it."

"I know it, Tony. Same goes for me." Gibbs kissed Tony and put his heart and soul into it. He felt very much in love, and somewhat overwhelmed at the same time. He was afraid for their future, concerned about doing the right thing, and determined not to hurt Tony in any way. He could see his emotions mirrored in Tony's face, the fear and the love at odds with each other, but he could also feel the love emanating from Tony, unshakable love for _him_ , and Gibbs wondered what he had done to deserve such a wonderful gift – for the second time in his life. 

Tony snuggled up to Gibbs' side and said, "There was this Magnum episode called 'One More Summer' where he was trying to figure out who was trying to kill a pro quarterback. Did you know that Magnum played football at the Naval Academy? Anyway, he said that these days, when he played football it was like he was in New England again, and 21, with an arm that could throw passes all afternoon. You know that feeling?"

"Yeah, I know what he means," said Gibbs.

"Well, being with you, this is better than playing in any football game, even a winning one," said Tony with a sigh. "Except for the showers after the game."

"The showers?" asked Gibbs, scratching his stomach, thinking he really needed a shower, but feeling too lazy to get out of bed. 

"Yeah, the showers are hard to beat, with all those big guys wearing skimpy towels around their waists, their packages swinging. Yeah, I like the showers." Gibbs glared at Tony but before he could do more than grunt in protest, Tony scrambled out of bed, shouting, "Beat you to the shower!"

***–***

Soon after 0900 they were in Gibbs' truck, on their way to do some errands. Gibbs wanted to check out the boat they were going to charter the next day, and there were some supplies they were going to need. He also had to shop for groceries as Tony had consumed all the cereal and milk and juice in the house. Well, Tony had pretty much cleaned out the fridge.

As Gibbs drove along he realized that he was feeling pretty damned happy. And why wouldn't he? He had a large travel mug of black coffee in a cup-holder within reach, and Tony at his side. His leg wasn't bad at all, and at times he even forgot he'd been seriously injured. Yeah, things were good. He watched Tony from out of the corner of his eye, shifting position as he tried to get comfortable. Tony's ass had certainly taken a pounding last night, and again this morning, Gibbs thought with a small smile. Tony caught him smirking and crossed his arms in annoyance, which drove Gibbs to laugh out loud. 

When they got to the marina on the Chesapeake, Gibbs introduced Tony to his old friend, George, who ran the place. "This is my friend Tony," he said, by way of introduction. Tony glanced at him with a funny look on his face that Gibbs couldn't interpret. It wasn't as if he could say, 'I'm gay and this is my lover,' if that was what Tony was expecting.

While Gibbs worked out the details with George for renting the 34' sailboat, a Catalina, Tony meandered around the large workshop, touching the tools and stacks of reclaimed wood, and picking up small boat parts for closer inspection. Gibbs left Tony on his own and went out to the dock with George to give the sailboat a once-over. It suited his needs, even if she had a fiberglas hull, so he told George that they'd be back early the next morning, tucked a sea chart he wanted to study under his arm, and went to look for Tony. 

Gibbs located him in the adjoining building, peering up at a large wooden sailboat that was jacked up on metal stands while being restored. He stood next to Tony and ran his hand over the hull, admiring the workmanship. When he glanced over at Tony, Gibbs found that he was smiling, apparently amused by something he'd done. "What's so funny?" Gibbs asked, with a scowl.

Tony shrugged. "You're stroking the wood like you're in love." He looked up at the boat. "It takes a lot of devotion and time to build a boat like this by hand. It's like…like taking the time to gentle a horse, or raise a kid. By the time you're finished, you'll know her better than anyone else ever will." Turning his head to meet Gibbs' eyes, Tony said sincerely, "It's a commitment, shows you care about her when you do a good job. That's what you do, Jethro. You put your heart into it. That's what sets you apart. That's what makes me love you so much." 

Gibbs drew Tony to his chest and hugged him tightly, unable to put his feelings into words. Hell, Tony knew how he felt.

Tony looked around nervously. "I thought you didn't want any public displays of affection."

"It was only a hug," Gibbs said gruffly.

With a duck of his head and a smile, Tony agreed, "Well, it was a really nice hug."

"Besides, we're the only ones here." George had gone back to work and Gibbs had made sure that there was nobody else around. 

Tony stuck his hands in his jeans pockets and hunched his shoulders. "Uh, can we have lunch soon? Hugging you makes me horny, and being horny makes me hungry, and unless there's some way we can get up into this boat and have a quickie, I need food."

Gibbs' eyebrows rose with interest at the suggestion of sex, but instead he suggested, "Fish and chips?" He knew of a seafood restaurant nearby and although it looked like a dump, the food was pretty good.

Tony looked indecisively from the boat to Gibbs. "Think they have crab cakes?"

"Sure. Last time I was there they had sweet potato praline pie," he said, knowing the sweet dessert would entice Tony.

Tony's eyed widened. "What're we waiting for then?"

***–***

They sat near the window and looked over the quiet harbor, their knees bumping under the small table. Gibbs kept his eyes on a small fishing boat coming into dock with a bunch of noisy seagulls following in its wake. He didn't have to look at Tony to be aware of his presence, his every movement. Gibbs could feel the heat of Tony's eyes whenever he looked his way. They concentrated on their food mostly, talking a little about sailing, and how the praline pie reminded Tony of Italian _panucci_. 

They finished and paid for the meal, and as soon as they were in the truck and driving towards Arlington, Gibbs took hold of Tony's hand. He rubbed his thumb over Tony's knuckles, and Tony gave his hand an occasional squeeze in reply. Funny how much a little bit of pressure could mean. Gibbs didn't let go until they pulled up at the Safeway a few blocks from Gibbs' home, and they had to get out in order to do their shopping.

While they were in the store they didn't touch each other, unless you counted accidentally brushing against each other when they were leaning over the freezer case. They argued over which flavor of ice cream to buy: coffee mocha or double-chunk chocolate ice cream. In the end Gibbs impatiently tossed a pint of each flavor into the shopping cart, and headed for the checkout.

Tony trailed after him, calling, "Wait! What about whipped cream? And sprinkles…we need sprinkles!"

***–***

Gibbs dumped two bags of groceries on the kitchen counter and Tony, who had followed him in, did the same. Gibbs put the perishables away, keeping a few things out for their trip the next day – carrots and apples that he'd cut into convenient slices, pretzels, sports drinks, and cans of soup. He'd heat up the soup and bring it along in a thermos; same with his coffee, except he'd fill two thermoses with the indispensable dark brew. 

"Go and find yourself a waterproof jacket and a hat," Gibbs told Tony, nodding in the direction of the hall closet. "Grab two life jackets; they'll be at the back of the closet. Here," he said, handing Tony some lip balm and sunscreen he'd bought. "You'll find a small bag in there. You got sunglasses?"

"Yeah, upstairs in my suitcase." Tony peered over Gibbs' shoulder at his choice of food and wrinkled his nose. "Any chance of some peanut butter sandwiches?"

"I won't let you starve," said Gibbs, nudging Tony out of the kitchen. 

Tony returned, decked out in a bright yellow windbreaker over a ratty black turtleneck sweater that Gibbs thought he'd given to Goodwill years ago. He wore his own jeans but he now had an old pair of Gibbs' deck shoes on his feet and it looked like he'd found an NIS ball cap. 

Holding out his arms, Tony asked, "Cool getup, huh?" In a thick Russian accent, he said, "'Everybody on island is complete and total crazy.' That's from 'The Russians are Coming.' 1966, Alan Arkin, Carl Reiner. Great movie!" He gave Gibbs a bright smile when he said, "That's what Dad used to say about me when I was a kid. 'Complete and total crazy.' The submarine the Russians ran aground was named _Sproot_. Know what that means?"

Gibbs realized that he was getting used to the way that Tony jumped from one subject to another; he even understood half of what he meant. Gibbs looked up from cutting carrot sticks, and man, Tony _did_ look very sexy in that black turtleneck, but instead of responding to the question, Gibbs asked curtly, "Where's your life jacket?"

Tony pulled a face and insisted he didn't need one until Gibbs made it clear that Tony wasn't setting a foot on a boat without a life jacket. "I fished you out of the drink once and that was enough," he snapped.

Tony sobered up, and for a moment Gibbs was afraid he'd gone to far, but Tony nodded in understanding. After removing the yellow slicker, Tony came over to hug Gibbs from behind and rested his cheek on his back. "You're always watching out for me," Tony said, his voice slightly muffled. "I watch your back, too."

"I know," Gibbs replied, scooping up the carrots and sticking them in a plastic bag, enjoying the way Tony was draped over his back, warm and solid.

"I had a good time today," Tony said against Gibbs' back.

Gibbs raised one eyebrow and peered over his shoulder. "Shopping for groceries?"

Tony let his arms slide away from Gibbs, and leaned against the counter so he could see his face. "Well, yeah. And going to the marina and looking at the boats, and having lunch together – doing ordinary things like ordinary people. Like _real_ ordinary people, not like the ordinary people in the movie 'Ordinary People,' who were a whole other kind of crazy. I had a good time just being with you." 

Feeling warm all over when he looked into Tony's green eyes, Gibbs said, " _Sproot_ means octopus. And your dad was _wrong,_ by the way."

"Wrong? About what?" Tony frowned at him, puzzled. A second later he caught Gibbs' meaning. "Oh, so you don't think I'm crazy? Not even a little bit?"

Gibbs said seriously, meaning every word, "You're a fine young man, Tony. You can watch my back anytime."

"You really mean that?" Tony glowed at the praise.

Gibbs found it hard not to smile. "I always say what I mean, but don't let it swell your head."

"Too late," Tony said with a bright smile. "Do you realize that nobody's shot at us or anything the entire day?"

"No rockets, no mob bosses," said Gibbs. _No DiNozzo Sr., either_ , he thought. He packed the snacks in plastic bags and put the food away in the fridge.

"No terrorist plots or FBI agents knocking at the door. No serial killers. We should celebrate," Tony suggested, wiggling his eyebrows. 

Gibbs took Tony in his arms and gave him a long, drawn-out kiss. When their lips finally parted, Gibbs pointed out, "The day ain't over yet."

"I'm not worried."

Gibbs leaned back a little, still hanging onto Tony. "You're not?"

"Nope. Because of the sign on the front door," Tony said.

Gibbs narrowed his eyes at him suspiciously. "What sign?"

"The one that says 'The Last Guy Who Trespassed is Buried out Back and Gibbs has Plenty of Ammo and a Really Big Yard.'" 

Laughing, Gibbs sent Tony on his way with a slap to his rear end. "Go do something useful. Put the life jackets by the front door. I have some calls to make before dinner. Afterwards, you want pizza?"

***–***

Gibbs talked on the phone to Mike Franks, who had gone into the Yard to 'keep a lid on things.' Discussing some of the finer points of the case made Gibbs itch to be at work. Now that there was a very real possibility that Seaman Carl Jacobs was AWOL and not dead, Pacci was working with the authorities in New York to locate the young Navy recruit. If Tony hadn't been with him, Gibbs would have been the one to look into the whereabouts of the missing man, and not Pacci. 

As a dedicated investigator, Gibbs got a great deal of satisfaction from wrapping up a case and knowing that he'd done his part in bringing a criminal to justice, but this case would never be closed until he found Seaman Jacobs. 

Gibbs knew that he had made a mistake right at the start. He had assumed that Jacobs had been just one more victim of a serial killer, and that his body had been dumped in the nearest river, never to be seen again. But now he knew that there was no evidence that Senator Harding had ever met Jacobs, and that had given Gibbs hope that the young man was still alive. Just the same, he was not very happy that his boss had sent Pacci to track down Seaman Jacobs, instead of him.

"This is still my case," Gibbs said to Franks. " _My_ responsibility."

"You're not in any shape to beat the pavements looking for Jacobs, Gunny," Franks pointed out. "Make the most of your weekend off. You ain't gonna get another one off for a while. Anyhow, soon as Pacci finds Seaman Jacobs, he'll call you. You'll need to get a statement outta him. Find out if Harding's man, Briggs, solicited him to go home with him. I know he was hand-picking the victims for his boss. The senator might be dead but I want to nail Briggs' ass to the wall. That clear?"

Franks was right, and Gibbs wanted to spend every minute he could with Tony, right up until the moment he had to put him on the plane back to Ohio. "Just make sure Pacci contacts me the moment he locates Jacobs."

After completing his call with Franks, Gibbs was transferred to Ducky, and it took a good fifteen minutes to convince the ME that yes, they were both going to wear life jackets, and no, he wouldn't let Tony fall into the bay. And how was his injured leg faring? It was aching a bit after all of the activity he'd had in bed, but it wasn't hurting anything like as much as it had been. "My leg's just fine, Ducky."

Gibbs made the excuse he had to order dinner before Ducky would let him go, and then called the pizza place a few blocks away. 

"Pepperoni, sausage and extra cheese," Tony called from the other room.

While he and Tony waited for the pizza to arrive, they spread the nautical chart on the dining room table. Gibbs went over their intended course with Tony. He also covered the basics of maneuvering the boat, and talked a bit about the wind and currents, and found Tony to be an attentive student. Tony had removed his hat and jacket, but he still wore Gibbs' big sweater and Gibbs thought how damned sexy Tony made his old clothing.

Tony said he'd been on boats before, but admitted he had never been allowed to handle the tiller. "Dad likes big boats. The kind that comes with a throaty engine, a readymade captain and a pretty girl serving drinks." Tony was going to say something more, but he hesitated and then said, "Sorry. I forgot. I wasn't going to mention him again."

"I'm not gonna freak out if you have to say his name, Tony."

Tony fiddled with a pair of dividers Gibbs had been using to chart their course. He asked, in a small voice, "Do you think he's left yet?"

Gibbs was about to say he'd call Fornell to find out if the FBI had released DiNozzo Sr. and kicked him out of the country, when the phone rang. 

"Gibbs."

"Fornell?"

"They finally released DiNozzo Sr. and he flew out fifteen minutes ago. Headed for Bahrain, nonstop."

Gibbs released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "Good." Tony was watching him closely, so Gibbs nodded to him. Tony's shoulders slumped but his expression remained neutral. Still talking to Fornell, pulled Tony into a one-armed hug. As soon as Gibbs had finished their brief conversation and hung up, the doorbell rang, signaling the arrival of the pizza. 

***–***

Tony and Gibbs ate, sitting opposite each other at the small kitchen table, and if Tony seemed to be chattering more than usual, Gibbs figured it was because he was on edge about his father leaving. It would take a while for it to sink in that for the first time in his life Tony was free to do whatever he wanted. His father was no longer a threat; the familial strings had been severed. Well, almost. The damned money still tied them together.

Gibbs had little doubt that Tony's father would return to the US at some point. He could just picture it: a few months from now, Senior would delude himself into believing that the New York mob had forgotten him and it was safe for him to come back. After all, he'd reason, a new boss was running the organization, and they'd have bigger problems than worrying about him, even if he'd ratted out their former boss to the FBI. 

And then there was the likelihood that DiNozzo would find that living in the Middle East wasn't all it was cut out to be. It would be tough for him to get any business once his reputation and his connection to the mob became known. It wouldn't take long for the gossip to spread. Senior would start to miss home, feel alienated, cut off. 

There was also the matter of the money that Tony had stolen out from under his nose. Senior might be running scared now, and he was willing to accept the very large stipend Tony was doling out to him in exchange for staying the hell away, but Tony's father wasn't going to give up his millions so easily.

"…but my favorite of all time is Doug Fairbanks, Jr., in the 'Black Pirate.' 1926, filmed in this beautiful hand-tinted color. Talk about swashbuckling, Fairbanks practically invented it and…" Tony broke off his one-sided conversation to ask abruptly, "You think he'll be back, don't you?" He looked worriedly at Gibbs, a slice of half-eaten pizza forgotten in his hand.

Gibbs shook his head. "Not anytime soon." Tony seemed relieved and Gibbs added casually, "You'll be safe. I'll always watch your six, Tony." He picked up another piece of pizza and took a bite and when he looked up it was to see Tony smiling at him, his eyes suspiciously bright.

"Have I told you lately how much I love you, Jethro?"

Gibbs made a show of thinking hard. "Hmm, not sure. You'll have to remind me. My memory ain't what it used to be."

Tony snorted and picked up the last slice. "Yeah, right. For an old guy, you sure have a good sex drive." 

"Old guy? Who're you calling old? I've got a lot of stamina. Have to, if I'm gonna keep up with you," Gibbs said with a nod.

"That's good, because I expect to get fucked by you, Jethro, on a regular basis. At least twice a day, whenever we're together."

Gibbs snorted. "Huh, you do, do you? Hand jobs count?"

Tony looked thoughtful while he chewed. "Yeah, I guess so. But what are we going to do when I'm in Ohio and you're here?"

Gibbs wiped his mouth with a napkin and said decisively, "Phone sex."

Tony choked in shock. "What?"

"Phone sex. Like in the movie with that Michael Caine guy and the blond actress. The Swedish girl with the big lips," Gibbs said nonchalantly.

Tony laughed with delight. "Oh my God, Leroy Jethro Gibbs is making a movie reference and it's about phone sex!"

Gibbs frowned at Tony. "What's the matter? I get the wrong movie?"

"No, no! You got it right. It's 'Get Carter.' 1971. The girl is Britt Eckland. She was Miss Goodnight in 'The Man with the Golden Gun', the Bond film with Roger–"

Gibbs cut in, saying, "Yeah, well, I hated that movie, the Michael Caine one. He was one cold, messed-up bastard." Tony looked askance at Gibbs, but he brightened considerably when Gibbs said matter-of-factly, "That's settled then. We'll just have to have phone sex when we can't be together."

***–***

They sat on opposite ends of the couch later that evening. Gibbs was trying to read the sports section, grumbling to himself because the type size of the box scores was pitifully small and he was afraid he was going to need reading glasses soon. 

Tony was holding the house phone to his ear, reclining with his legs spread wide apart, one hand cupped over his groin. He looked straight at Gibbs while he talked into the mouthpiece in a low, sultry voice. "That's right, reach down and touch yourself. Not too hard a grip. Yeah, that's good. I like it just like that." Tony undid his fly and slid his hand inside his jeans. "Now slide your hand along your dick, up and down, faster. Yeah, that's good. Now twist it and…oh yeah…fuck, rub your thumb right there, behind the head, and…fuck _yeah_ …you're soooo sexy, so fucking _hot_ …oh, _Jethro_ …"

Gibbs gave up trying to read, and in one swift movement he stood, took hold of Tony's arm, and hauled him towards the stairs. The phone fell to the floor with a clatter, buzzing with a dial tone.

"But…but I'm not finished. Jethro! I was just getting to the good part."

Tony gave a squeak when Gibbs took a handful of Tony's sweater and shoved him against the wall at the bottom of the staircase, and growled, "You get upstairs and naked in bed, and you wait for me." Tony nodded, apparently at a loss for words. Gibbs leaned in close and ordered, "I have some things to do, to get ready for tomorrow, so you lie there and you wait for me. Understood?"

Tony looked at him with wide eyes. "You mean I can't…? But…"

"No. Do _not_ touch yourself. Now go. I'll be up when I'm finished down here." He watched Tony turn and climb the stairs, chuckling when Tony stumbled on the top step in his haste.

Gibbs adjusted himself in his too-tight jeans. Damn. Taking his own sweet time, he checked that they had all of their gear for the sailing trip together in one place, locked the doors, turned off the downstairs lights, and made his way upstairs.

***–***

The next morning they were up bright and early, as they had to catch the outgoing tide. 

Tony moved stiffly at first, grumbling a bit and casting dark looks at Gibbs, but Gibbs knew it was all for show. Sure, he'd pounded Tony's ass after he'd sucked him off last night, and boy, by the time Gibbs got upstairs, Tony had been hard and ready for action. Sending him to the bedroom alone and making him wait certainly had its benefits. 

Gibbs was a bit sore himself. After he'd given Tony the best blowjob ever, he had allowed Tony to penetrate his hole with his fingers. Gibbs had stopped him at three fingers when he'd felt the stretch and burn was getting to be too much, but it had been a shock to discover how incredibly pleasurable it was when Tony's long fingers stroked across his prostate. Gibbs had yelled Tony's name when he came, and then he'd rolled to the side, chest heaving, totally wrung out. The last thing he remembered was Tony cleaning him up because he'd been out like a light, but sometime in the middle of the night he'd awakened to find Tony giving him a blowjob under the sheets. 

How the hell he had survived the night, Gibbs didn't know, and now they were both feeling the occasional twinge. It was going to take some time to catch up on the sleep that he'd been losing ever since Tony had come to stay with him. 

Tony insisted on making a pile of pancakes, and when he was finished, he dipped his fingers in the syrup pooled on his plate, and noisily sucked the sweet stuff off his fingers. "Mmm, s'good," he mumbled, an expression of ecstasy on his face.

Gibbs continued eating, studiously avoiding looking at those slick fingers thrusting in and out of Tony's pursed lips. Even if he knew Tony was yanking his chain, the time came when Gibbs couldn’t stand it any longer. He threw down his fork and asked sharply, "You gonna eat your food or play with it?" 

"Uh…play with it?"

Forget that Tony looked at him with those big, innocent eyes of his; Gibbs pulled him over to the couch, pushed his shirt and sweater – the sexy black turtleneck – up to his armpits, and licked wet circles around his nipples. Tony squirmed and cried for mercy while Gibbs held him down and playfully pulled at Tony's nipple rings with his teeth. 

"Stop, stop!" cried Tony. Gibbs immediately released him and made to get off the couch, but Tony dragged Gibbs back down for a sloppy kiss that tasted of maple syrup. Tony's head rested on a small cushion, his hair wild and messy, and he looked up at Gibbs, his eyes warm and inviting. "Make love to me," he said softly. 

Gibbs' heart quickened. They were running early; there should be enough time. "Let's go then." 

He rose, intending to take this upstairs, but Tony held onto his hand and said insistently, "Here. I want you to fuck me right here." Not waiting for an answer, Tony let go of him so he could wriggle out his jeans. He was wearing his red briefs, the ones that had turned Gibbs on that first night they'd spent together. Before he dropped his pants to the floor, Tony produced a small tube of lube from his jeans' pocket. 

Gibbs took it and put it aside while he slowly pulled the tight red briefs down Tony's thighs, exposing his already leaking cock. He gave it a lick in passing, making Tony arch and beg Gibbs to take his dick in his mouth. 

He loved Tony's body, his long, lean legs, the curves and arcs and heavy bones, the solid muscles of his arms and back, the heavy weight of his balls in their loose sac, and his cock, my God, the way it reacted so beautifully to his every touch. He licked it again and it twitched and rose, inviting more of the same treatment. Gibbs smiled. "So fucking sexy."

"Thought…thought we were in a hurry," Tony said with a gasp.

"I can drive fast," Gibbs replied. He dragged the underwear down Tony's legs, kissing him as he moved down his body. First he spent time sucking gently on Tony's inner thigh, leaving wet, pink marks, and he nuzzled at Tony's balls and lipped at the loose, dark skin. Then he concentrated on the soft area at the back of his knee, which turned out to be ticklish. There was nothing like this, the smooth skin and hard planes, strength yet softness, too, but all male, all Tony. 

He bit Tony's well-muscled calf and kissed it, murmuring, "Nice," then licked around one ankle before mouthing the skin on his instep. He sucked hard and Tony reacted with a sharp intake of breath and a long, drawn out "Ooooh."

Gibbs finally got the briefs off and tossed them aside. He concentrated on suckling Tony's toes, grinning evilly when he writhed and pled, "Jethro, _Jethro_ …"

"You want more?"

Tony nodded and swallowed, then said, "More." He gave a huff of a laugh and said, "Oliver Twist. 'More, please sir.'"

"I'll give you more, please sir, " promised Gibbs. He pulled his own shirt off, and then Tony's shirt and sweater, and straddled him, pushing Tony down and kissing him relentlessly until he was relaxed and moaning softly. Gibbs lubed up his fingers and took his time working them in and out of Tony's ass, mimicking the earlier action of Tony's syrup-coated fingers in his own mouth. 

Tony started to make little thrusts with his hips, voicing high sounds of pleasure when Gibbs drove three, and then four fingers in and out of his tight, hot hole. "Oh my God, fuck me now, Jethro, do it, do it, fuck," Tony cried, hanging onto Gibbs' shoulders. Tony pressed his forehead against Gibbs' straining neck, and grunted at every thrust of his fingers.

Gibbs withdrew his fingers, and had to encourage Tony to lay back with a palm flat on his bare chest. "Shhh, won't be long," Gibbs promised. He shoved a cushion under Tony's bottom and Tony obligingly raised his knees and spread his leg wide in an open invitation. Gibbs' hands were shaking by the time got his jeans the hell off and out of the way. Fuck, he was hard. He wasn't going to make it. A squeeze at the base of his shaft took care of things long enough for him to line himself up and enter Tony's body. He was trying to go gently, to hold back, even though all he wanted to do was plunge in hard, but Tony, so damned impatient, pulled his knees up tight to his chest and rolled his hips, and suddenly Gibbs' cock, hot and throbbing, was all the way in, embedded right to his balls.

 _Holy hell_. Gibbs sucked in a breath and closed his eyes, doing his damnedest to contain his need to be rough, to fucking _plow_ into Tony's body with abandon. Tony's hand was on the back of his neck, pulling his head down, and he was kissing Gibbs and sucking on his tongue as if he were starving. By the time they parted, they were both flushed and panting, and Gibbs shuddered, unable to contain the fierce desire that was coursing through his body. "God, Tony…" He couldn’t say what he wanted to, couldn’t get it out; his fucking brain was out of order and his heart was hammering in his ears. 

Tony looked into Gibbs' eyes and urged from between clenched teeth, "Just let it go, let it _go_."

It was as if Tony's words were some kind of trigger because it only took a couple of quick thrusts and he was coming and Tony's dick was rubbing hard against his belly, and semen splattered hot against his stomach and they were both making some God-awful noises. Everything whited out and Gibbs collapsed.

He came back slowly, but as soon as he realized he was crushing Tony with his weight – not that Tony was complaining – Gibbs rolled to one side. He forgot he was on the couch, and ended up getting dumped on the living room rug. Tony leaned over the edge of Gibbs' old, sagging couch, laughing so hard that Gibbs grabbed his hand and pulled him down. As a result, Gibbs got an elbow in the stomach, but it was worth it, just to see Tony's surprised expression. 

"Hey, no fair, doing sneaky Marine moves on me!"

"All's fair," Gibbs retorted, grappling with Tony on the floor until he had his lover pinned underneath him. Tony wriggled a bit, and he was strong, but Gibbs retained the upper hand. "You can struggle all night but you can't win," he said with a grin.

"Okay, I surrender," said Tony, kissing Gibbs.

"Like you have any choice." After another long kiss, Gibbs rolled off Tony and said, "Okay, let's go. We have to make up for lost time." Together they struggled to their feet, still drunk in the aftermath of making love. Gibbs grabbed a shirt off the floor and wiped the come that was leaking out of Tony's ass with it, belatedly recognizing it as one of his own. "Hey! You bring two suitcases full of clothes with you, but you're always wearing mine?" Gibbs demanded.

Tony said, smirking, "Your clothes are comfy, like you are."

"I am _not_ comfy," retorted Gibbs, not sure if he should be insulted.

"The hell you aren't," said Tony, drawing Gibbs to him and kissing him one last time before they had to go and get ready for their trip. 

***–***end chapter 77******


	78. Navigating Their Way

They set out only a little later than planned, and Gibbs made up for lost time by driving fast. By the time they arrived at the marina and were set up on the sailboat, the day was warming up nicely, just as the weatherman had predicted. 

The coffee Gibbs had been drinking since daylight was doing its job, and as soon as they set sail and were out on the open water, his head had cleared and he felt totally in his element. They tacked across the bay to the eastern shore, and then worked their way south, passing a couple of pleasure boats and a tug heading for Annapolis. Tony waved and the tugboat skipper hooted his horn in greeting. After a couple of hours of sailing out in the bay, Gibbs skillfully maneuvered the sailboat, whose name was _Awake_ , into the shelter of a quiet river that meandered past a wildlife refuge. It had been a mild winter and there were large birds, osprey and herons mostly, feeding in the marshy land along the water's edge.

After helping Gibbs to lower the mainsail and drop anchor, Tony hung over the edge, excitedly pointing out a great blue heron that was too busy swallowing a large fish to pay attention to its audience. Certain that Tony would end up falling into the bay before the day was out, Gibbs was glad that he'd made Tony wear his life jacket. 

***–***

When Gibbs had tightened the lifejacket's straps across Tony's chest before they'd boarded the boat that morning, Tony had complained, "It's like a straitjacket, Jethro. Makes me feel like I'm in bondage gear." Gibbs had stopped what he was doing and had raised his eyebrows, which had led Tony to insist that he had no personal experience of that kind of thing, and that he must have read about it somewhere. 

"This something we need to talk about?" Gibbs had asked.

"No, sir."

Gibbs had narrowed his eyes at Tony, but didn't press for details. The longer he knew Tony, the more Gibbs thought he was like those little boxes that nested inside each other. He was almost afraid of what he might find inside the next box, even though he was intrigued.

***–***

Gibbs handed Tony a cup of hot soup and a peanut butter sandwich, which earned him a sticky kiss of thanks. They were out of the wind and were able to remove their jackets while they ate, and Tony mentioned the sparkling water looked good enough to swim in. Gibbs put an end to that idea by explaining that the water temperature was about 45 degrees and that he had no intention of diving in after Tony "when your legs cramp up from the cold and you sink to the bottom like a rock." As soon as he said that, Gibbs realized that, in light of Tony's recent close call with drowning in Harding's lake, it sounded insensitive, but Tony took it in stride.

"Maybe we can do this again in the summer, and go swimming off the boat? Can we stay at one of those bed and breakfasts we passed on the way? I'd like to take a tour of the Naval Academy at Annapolis. How about going inside a lighthouse?" Tony asked hopefully.

"Huh. You need paper and pencil, Tony?"

Tony warily eyed Gibbs, sensing sarcasm in his tone. "What for?"

"Well, your list of things that you want to do this summer is getting sort of long. Didn't you say something about planning a cookout at my house?"

Tony's face lit up. "We can have a cookout? I didn't know you heard me, in the hospital."

"I heard you all right." He might have been a bit out of it with the pain meds they'd given him after being stabbed, but Gibbs had been very aware of Tony's presence. He had heard him talking, making plans for the summer. "No beer bongs, no wet t-shirt contests, and nobody but me handles the grill," said Gibbs sternly, laying down the law.

Tony gave Gibbs a sideways look and said, "It's a backyard cookout, Jethro, not a frat party." 

"Just making sure."

After lunch, they pulled up the anchor and set off for deeper water. "Want to take the helm?" Gibbs called out to Tony, who was sunning himself on the cabin roof – with his life jacket on. The astonished look Tony gave him was priceless. He looked like a kid who'd just been told he could drive the car, all on his own, for the first time. 

After giving Tony some instructions, Gibbs left him to handle the sailboat on his own. They were at a wide section of the bay, the currents and wind were both favorable, and there was no other craft in sight. "Keep an eye on the channel markers like I showed you," Gibbs said, and went below to the compact galley to get them some hot coffee. He returned topside to find Tony preoccupied with steering the sailboat. He didn't quite have the hang of getting the right angle into the wind, but he was doing very well for a newcomer. Gibbs had to hold Tony's cup of coffee in front of his face for him to take notice. 

"Oh, thanks. You taking over now, Cap'n?" Tony sipped the steaming hot coffee without taking his eyes off the water ahead.

"Nope. You're doing fine, First Mate," said Gibbs.

Tony smiled wickedly and started growling things like "Arrrr, ye be a bilge rat," and "Aye, me hearties, this be a fine grog," until Gibbs smacked him on the back of his head.

It was a beautiful day, with gentle swells and a good breeze, and the fresh air coming in from the ocean made Gibbs resolve that he would somehow find time in his busy schedule for a sail. The sun was bright but it was cool out on the open water. Tony didn't seem to care though. He was grinning, exhilarated at being given the chance to handle the big boat. He hadn't stopped smiling the whole time they'd been on the _Awake_ , and it struck Gibbs how healthy and handsome Tony looked. A big change from just a few days ago; his bruises were fading and he had color in his cheeks. 

Tony exclaimed, "This is great!" 

Gibbs stood at Tony's side, and although he kept an eye on things, he didn't see any need to step in. "You're doing fine, Tony." He enjoyed seeing Tony so happy, and was glad he had been able to arrange this little sailing trip. 

Tony gave Gibbs a smile that would have stolen his heart if it hadn't already been taken. "Thank you, Jethro." 

It was a simple enough expression of appreciation, but Gibbs knew that Tony was thanking him for far more than just taking him sailing. He nodded, unable at that moment to say anything in response. His mouth was dry and he felt like an awkward teenager who can't figure out what to say and so blurts out something totally stupid. He was saved from doing just that because they were a little off course due to the strong tidal action, and he had to explain to Tony what to do in order to make the necessary corrections. With a newfound confidence, Tony adjusted their course; the boom swung over and both men ducked in unison. 

When Gibbs glanced in Tony's direction, he found Tony was looking at him with a smirk that plainly indicated that he knew why Gibbs was tongue-tied. Tony reached out and ran his hand up and down Gibbs' arm. It was a loving and intimate gesture, despite its casual appearance. At that moment, everything seemed to come together. Gibbs could see how good this was, how _right_ , and he truly believed that no matter what the future threw their way, they'd make it.

***–***

Late in the afternoon they anchored one last time before heading back to the marina, in a tree-lined cove with a view of the bay. Seated on cushions at the stern, Tony sat between Gibbs' legs and leaned back against his chest. It was peaceful with the water slapping against the hull as they relaxed and took in the view. A large cargo ship heading towards Baltimore passed in the distance, sitting low in the water; it took about fifteen minutes for its wake to reach them and it rocked their small boat hard enough for Tony to grab onto Gibbs. 

"It's huge," said Tony. "How does the captain know the ship won't bottom out?"

"They pick up a Maryland Bay pilot before they enter the bay," Gibbs explained. "He'll be a local man who knows every trench and shoal. He'll navigate her safely through the channel."

Tony idly stroked Gibbs' forearm where it was resting against his stomach. "Where'd you learn how to sail, Jethro? In the Marines?"

"Summer job." Tony was waiting expectantly so Gibbs revealed, "When I was a teenager, I got in trouble a lot and–"

"Not _you_ ," Tony interrupted.

"Hey! You want to hear this or not?"

"Sorry," said Tony, not at all abashed.

"As I was saying, my dad had had enough of me, so he shipped me out to work for an old Army buddy of his who ran a camp in the Poconos."

"Camp? Lots of Kool-Aid and stand-up comics? Talent contests with girls wearing bikinis made of coconut shells?"

"No, it was a boot camp," Gibbs said with a laugh. "Lots of athlete's foot, and sending out search parties for dumb kids lost in the woods. The Sarge was running a training camp for teens who wanted to go into the military. There was a sailing and navigation course, and I ended up teaching it when the teacher ran off with a visitor's wife after I'd been there a couple of weeks." Gibbs chuckled as he remembered, "Turned out the Sarge got seasick so he didn't want to go out on the lake."

"But not you."

"No, but the worst it got was a bit choppy when there was a storm. I learned a lot–"

"Like where the girl's camp was on the other side of the lake?"

Gibbs chuckled. "Oh yeah. Anyway, ever since then, I've sailed whenever I could."

"And now you're building your own boat. I can't wait to see her on the water."

Gibbs didn't tell Tony that he had no intention of ever sailing the boat that was currently in his basement. Tony was looking at him, waiting for a reply, so Gibbs smiled and said, "I've still got a lot of work to do on her, Tony."

Tony nodded and said, "I know, it's working with the wood you like, more than the end product."

Gibbs hugged Tony to him and felt him relax in his arms. They'd have to be on their way soon; it was getting chilly and the days were short; it was barely spring. Maybe he'd cook some steak tonight if they got home early enough. They didn't want too heavy a dinner, what with Tony flying out tomorrow morning. Gibbs kissed Tony's ear and then his cheek, one cold and the other warm. 

"You cold?" he asked Tony. 

Tony shook his head no. After a long spell of silence, he said, out of the blue, "There was a TV movie version of 'Death Takes a Holiday' in the early seventies, with Monte Markham. You ever see it?"

Wasn't that the movie Tony had cited when they'd had their big fight over how Gibbs defined 'normal'? Gibbs grunted, "Nope."

"Well, there's this part where Death, who comes down to visit the living, takes a good look around and says he doesn't understand why people fight desperately to remain in a world that's so unhappy." Tony paused and looked out at the expanse of blue water, darker now as the sun made its way towards the horizon. 

Tony was quiet for so long that Gibbs wondered if he was going to continue or if that was it. 

With his brows furrowed in thought, Tony said, "I used to be like that, too dumb to walk away from the pain. I thought that was how I was supposed to feel. If there was another way, I didn't know about it."

"Tony," Gibbs warned, sensing that this was leading down a bad road.

"No, it's okay, Jethro. I know the difference now. I can see the whole picture…because you showed it to me. You and Ducky, and Jenny and Fornell. All of you. If you hadn't come into my life, I'd be dead by now. Sir…Senator Harding was going to hurt me, probably kill me like he did the others. That's why Dad sent me to you. He knew you'd take care of me, just long enough for the FBI to make a case against Harding, so I think…I think I can forgive him because of that." Tony turned in Gibbs' arms and met his eyes. "I conned you into taking me home with you. I knew it was wrong but I set out to seduce you; I could tell you liked me and used that against you. I knew from the start that you were my ticket out. I'm sorry."

"Tony, you don't–"

"I _am_ sorry, and I just want you to know that. I'm sorry that I took advantage of you and made you have sex with me and–"

"You're wrong, Tony. You never took advantage of me. _Never_ , you hear me? I knew what was going on from the start, or had a pretty good idea. I did _not_ walk into the situation with blinders on. Do not apologize to me." Tony was staring at him, uncertain yet hopeful. Gibbs shifted his weight to one side, so he could see Tony's face clearly, and he kept his arms around him. "Don't you know? I fell for you the first moment I saw you, Tony DiNozzo. Nothing could have kept me from getting to know you. Nothing." 

Tony swallowed hard and said, "Wow."

Gibbs gave Tony a squeeze and admitted, "If you hadn't asked for my help that night you were in jail, I would've waited until you were out of college and looked you up then."

"You would have looked for me, four years later? But I might have been anywhere," Tony said.

"I would've found you," said Gibbs with a shrug, not wanting to think about where Tony might have been if he hadn't come along. 

"That is _so_ romantic, like something you'd see in a movie, maybe 'An Affair to Remember' where they meet months later at the Empire State Building. Only with handcuffs." 

"Handcuffs?" Gibbs asked, amused.

Tony ducked his head and a small smile appeared. "Yeah. That's one of my fantasies. You track me down and handcuff me and drag me–"

"No," interrupted Gibbs. "No handcuffs. Not necessary." He picked up one of Tony's hands, pushed the cuff of his jacket and sweater back, and kissed his still-healing wrist.

"No, they're not, are they?" Tony settled back against Gibbs' chest, a fulfilled expression on his face. After a while he said quietly, "Nobody's ever cared enough to track me down before."

"Yeah, well, they do now. I do," replied Gibbs brusquely. He hugged Tony tightly and kissed his temple. Together they watched a heron take flight across the shallows of the bay, with its magnificent, sweeping wings translucent against the late afternoon sun.

***–***

They returned home, wind-burned and tired but happy, to find that Ducky had left a large, foil-covered dish of fettucine alfredo on the porch, with a cream-colored envelope taped to it. Once they were inside, and their gear had been put away, Gibbs opened the envelope and scanned the note. "Looks like Mrs. Mallard is on an Italian kick, and she made this for you, Antonio," said Gibbs, drawling the name Antonio. "Here, this is addressed to you."

Tony took the note and sat at the kitchen table while Gibbs puttered around and put the dinner on to heat. "It's Ducky's phone number," said Tony, less than enthused. "And his friend's number. The shrink in Columbus he thinks I should see."

Gibbs pointed out, "He's trying to help, Tony. So you'll have someone to talk to." 

Shrugging, Tony said quietly, "I know but…I'd rather talk to you."

Gibbs sat next to Tony and laid a hand on his shoulder. "You can always talk to me, Tony, only with my job…I have long hours. Sometimes I'm out on a case for days. Might not be available."

"I know, but…" Tony pulled a face.

"I don't want to have to worry about being out of touch when you need me. I need to know there's a backup plan, that there's someone there for you."

"It's okay. You don't have to worry about me, Jethro." Tony put on a smile that might have fooled most people, but not Gibbs. "I'll be fine. It's just that I don't like talking about personal stuff, you know?"

"Look, I'm the last person to suggest anyone go to a shrink, but –"

Tony held up Ducky's note. "Ducky says Dr. Leo Marvin is a crisis counselor. He helps people who've been involved in 'violent situations to deal with anger, and fear – and sexual anxiety.'" Tony looked at Gibbs from under his eyebrows, an impish smile on his lips. "I think we can scratch that last one off the list of problems, don't you?"

Tony seemed to be coping very well, with what was a traumatic sequence of events – being assaulted and nearly killed by a serial killer, for starters – but Gibbs knew that a bad reaction could hit him later. If Tony crashed after he got back to college, Gibbs wanted to be sure that there was someone right there to help him deal with it. Anyway, he'd already grilled Ducky about the shrink's credentials. He had wanted to make sure that this Dr. Martin was going to be sympathetic to Tony's situation, and Ducky had been confident that his colleague was the right man for the job. Gibbs asked Tony, "So you'll talk to this guy?"  
  
Tony gave in and nodded. "All right. I told Ducky I would, and I won't go back on my word."

Gibbs pulled him into a one-armed hug and then dished up the fettucini with some hot rolls on the side. They were both famished after all the exercise and fresh air, and the meal was delicious. At first they concentrated on eating, but then Tony started to ask Gibbs about his sniper training and his tours overseas. While he was busy relating stories about his combat experiences, Gibbs almost forgot that Tony was leaving the next day. The flight was before noon, so there wouldn't be time to do anything other than have breakfast together in the morning.

They washed the dishes together and moved into the living room. Gibbs sat on the couch and Tony automatically snuggled up to him, his head resting on Gibbs' shoulder.

"You really need a TV in here, Jethro."

"Got one in the basement." Gibbs didn't have to look at Tony to know he wore an incredulous expression.

"I mean a _real_ TV. One that's bigger than a cigar box. Just think of the movies we can watch together: 'The Day of the Jackal', 'Three Days of the Condor', 'In Which We Serve'…or 'Bad Day at Black Rock.'"

"We could do that," Gibbs relented.

"'I believe a man is as big as what he's seeking,'" Tony quoted from 'Bad Day.' "Did you know that in the script, Spencer Tracy was supposed to use one hand to light matches but he couldn’t do it so they let him use a Zippo lighter? Is it true that every veteran carries a Zippo?"

Gibbs patted his pocket. "I do."

They talked about movies for a while, sticking to westerns, as Gibbs knew the classic ones pretty well. Tony liked 'Nevada Smith' because of Steve McQueen, bent on vengeance, and spaghetti westerns for their art-house style; Gibbs thought they were too long, even if the Civil War scenes in 'The Good, the Bad and the Ugly' looked pretty authentic. He preferred 'The Man who Shot Liberty Valance' and 'Red River.'

When there was a lull in the conversation, Tony shifted in Gibbs' arms until he was lying half on top of him, his cheek resting on his chest. He asked in a subdued tone, "Jethro? How did she handle it when you went on tour, knowing the danger of going into combat, that you'd be away for months at a time?"

Gibbs hesitated. He never mentioned his late wife or child, much less shared personal recollections of his family with anyone. But, for some reason – maybe because it was time to share the memories of her with someone else he loved – Gibbs found he was able to talk to Tony about Shannon. "She…Shannon stayed busy. Volunteered, spent time with the other wives when we lived on base." And she had their daughter to take care of. Kelly had made all the difference. She was the light of his life, always bright and happy. Gibbs cleared his throat and said, "Shannon took a woodworking class once so we'd have a hobby in common. She didn't want to admit that she was terrible at it, so she said she was allergic to sawdust." He smiled at the memory, especially as they had both known perfectly well that she wasn't really allergic. 

"But she had to watch you leave, knowing you might not come back," said Tony, sounding worried.

"Shannon knew what the job entailed when she married a Marine, Tony. She found her own way of coping; we both did. We valued our time together and made the most of it. I hated leaving my family behind, just as much as Shannon hated seeing me walk out that door, but we had to deal with it. I think the worst part was seeing her trying not to cry, holding it all in, being so brave. It was tough. I hate saying good-bye." 

Tony hugged Gibbs and placed a kiss on his shirt, right over his heart. "If it'd been me, I'd have been bawling all over the place."

"I thought DiNozzos don't cry."

Tony was quick to say, "They don't. Well, they're not supposed to. But if I had to watch you leave and knew you were going somewhere dangerous, I'd probably have a meltdown of some kind. As it is, your job puts you in danger a lot." 

"I'm part of a team, Tony, and we watch each other's backs. We don't take any unnecessary risks," Gibbs assured him. 

"You do so take risks," Tony countered.

"Okay, but the past couple of weeks aren't the norm, Tony." Gibbs kissed Tony's temple and then Tony raised his face, his lips parted, and their mouths met. They kissed languidly, exploring and tasting each other, like this was a lazy Sunday afternoon.

They parted slowly, and Tony stared intently into Gibbs' eyes and asked, "When I leave, will you be able to say good-bye to me?"

"Why the hell wouldn’t I?"

"You said it was really hard for you to say good-bye."

It took a few seconds for Gibbs to process where Tony was going with this. "You're not exactly goin' anywhere dangerous," he said, trying to make light of Tony's concern.

"What? You don't think Ohio State is dangerous? You've never gone on a panty raid at a sorority house," Tony joked. "If those girls catch you at it, they attack like a pack of wild dogs, believe me."

Gibbs lightly swatted the back of Tony's head. "No worries because you won't be going on any panty raids," he said firmly. Tony's shoulders shook as he laughed into Gibbs' chest. Gibbs thought about Shannon and Kelly, and their last goodbye, but instead of being overwhelmed by grief, like usual, he remembered the unconditional love they'd given him, and how loving them back had brought out the best in him. Eventually Gibbs said, "I used to leave things for Shannon to find."

"What d'you mean?"

Feeling a little embarrassed, Gibbs shrugged. "I dunno. Small things, gifts, maybe a letter she could read to Kelly later on. One time I wrote 'I'll miss you every day' on the bathroom mirror. Used her lipstick. When I came back from my tour, I saw it was still there. Shannon had cleaned around it all those months." 

Tony smiled. "Sounds like you were both pretty romantic."

Gibbs tousled Tony's hair and smiled at his notion. "They say that if you leave something behind, it means you want to return."

"Why, what did you leave behind?"

"Nothing."

"Oh, come on, Jethro. Tell me. What'd you leave?"

Wishing he hadn't opened his mouth, and knowing Tony would never let it go if he didn't 'fess up, Gibbs mumbled, "M'shorts."

Tony sat up a bit and frowned at him. "Your shorts? You mean your underwear?"

"Yeah," Gibbs confessed. "I put 'em under her pillow. Seems stupid now." He took a breath, and made as if to stand, but Tony held him back with a hand on his chest.

"Hold on a minute, sailor. Were they…clean or…?"

Gibbs rolled his eyes. "C'mon, time to go up to bed. You still need to pack, right? And use some lotion on your nose or it'll peel." 

"Oh, no you don't…no changing the subject," Tony said, intrigued. "Leroy Jethro Gibbs! You put dirty underwear under your wife's pillow. Boxers or briefs?"

"I don't remember," Gibbs said, annoyed. He didn't know why this fascinated Tony, but it did. Tony kept his hand on Gibbs' chest, pressing hard enough to keep him from rising, and there was a look in his eye that told Gibbs he wasn't going to be able to wiggle out of this. He gave a hard done-by sigh and said, "Boxers, okay? Can I get up now?"

Tony laughed, amused at Gibbs' discomfort, but he let him get up from the couch. He snickered all the way up the stairs and every now and then, while he was packing and putting out his clothes for the next day, Tony said, "Underwear," and let out a laugh.

Gibbs had had enough by the time they got into bed. He immediately pressed Tony into the mattress and kissed him until the thought of underwear was the farthest thing from Tony's mind. This was their last night together for a while, and Gibbs intended to make the most of it.

***–***

Early the next morning, in the pale light of dawn, Gibbs kissed Tony awake, and urged him to roll on his side, facing away. He waited, fondling Tony's ass, lightly fingering his puckered hole until Tony licked his lips and moaned in anticipation. Gibbs entered him slowly, an inch at a time. Tony was so tight around him, tight and so fucking _hot_ , that Gibbs had to suck in a breath and pause before continuing. He was determined not to rush this. Aroused by Tony's soft, drowsy moans and his musky scent, Gibbs thrust into his warm, receptive body with slow, deliberate strokes, all the time kissing Tony's neck and shoulder, and nuzzling behind his ear while making appreciative noises.

"'S too early," Tony mumbled, looking over his shoulder with heavy lidded eyes. Despite his mild protest he was smiling, somewhat crookedly.

Cupping Tony's cheek, Gibbs gently turned his head so he could flick his tongue between his parted lips. He kissed him tenderly, smiling at the beauty of his sleepy lover.

Tony, of course, was able to kiss and talk at the same time. He murmured, "Mmm, mornin', that's nice," against Gibbs' lips. Tony closed his eyes and groaned when Gibbs slid his hand around his cock and ran his thumb back and forth over its tip. 

Gibbs gave a slow roll of his hips and breathed into Tony's ear, "Still think it's too early? Want me to stop?"

Tony shook his head and raised his leg, making it easier for Gibbs to penetrate him deeply. "No…no, never. Never stop. Oh, that's good, fuck yeah…"

"I won't…ever…stop," Gibbs grunted. God, he loved the way Tony's wet, hot cock swelled in his fist when he pumped it in time to his thrusts. His slow, even thrusts soon became much more urgent. The pace quickened, driven by Gibbs' hunger and Tony's whimpers of need, and their bodies, slippery with sweat, rocked and slapped against each other in a frenzied rush towards orgasm. Gibbs drove his dick into Tony's hot, _hot_ body and Tony clamped down hard, making Gibbs moan so fucking loudly the neighbors probably heard him. 

Tony was making some pretty loud sounds of his own, every time Gibbs hit the right spot. He buried his face in the pillow and grabbed Gibbs' thigh, narrowly missing the healing stab wound, fingers biting into the muscle. Gibbs roughly grabbed Tony's hand and didn't let go when he hugged him, pressing his cheek hard against Tony's neck, snapping his hips at just the right angle so his cock brushed against Tony's prostate every time. They fit together perfectly, were made for each other, and now they were so close he could feel each movement of Tony's muscles, his every breath, his heartbeat. It was as if Tony was sharing his body and emotions with Gibbs, giving so much of himself that it was impossible to tell where Tony began and where he ended. Jesus, he was so damned near to the edge, about to lose it completely, and Tony was shaking and crying out that he was "gonna come, gonna..." 

Impatient and greedy, and unable to hold off any longer, Gibbs let it all go, and flew, knowing that Tony would follow him wherever he went. He came in hot spurts inside Tony's body, gasping through waves of pleasure so intense he could barely stand it. He rose up on his arms and pushed his weight into Tony as deeply as he could and gave a final thrust before collapsing against Tony's back.

Tony's thighs quivered and he writhed, fingers biting into Gibbs' forearm. He sobbed, "Jeth--Jethro, God, fuck, fuck! I need…oh God…"

Panting heavily against Tony's neck, Gibbs stroked and tugged at Tony's cock until he shuddered and, with a shout, came in Gibbs' fist. Gibbs clung to Tony, kissing the back of his neck, stroking his come-smeared belly, his sensitive balls, saying soft nothings until Tony's breathing evened out. All the while his heart ached at the thought of their parting. "I love you, Tony," he said softly.

Tony mumbled, "Love ya'."

All too soon Gibbs' cock slipped out of Tony's body, and he sighed and fell asleep, knowing that he was hopelessly in love.  

***–***

Gibbs woke up slowly, feeling pretty damned good until reality hit him: Tony was leaving this morning. In just a couple of hours he'd be driving him to the airport. He stretched and turned to wake Tony, only to find that he wasn't there, and that his side of the bed was cold. Propping himself up on his elbows, Gibbs looked towards the bathroom. The door was closed but there was no sound of running water, no indication that Tony was in there getting ready for the day. In fact, Gibbs' senses told him that not only was Tony not in the bathroom, but that he wasn't upstairs at all. He sniffed the air and detected the aroma of brewing coffee. Of course, Tony was already raiding the fridge; how that boy could pack away so much food and not put on any weight, he didn't know.

Gibbs got out of bed, finding his leg was a bit stiff but not painful, which surprised him after all of the previous day's activity, and went to use the bathroom. As soon as he was finished taking a leak and having a quick wash, he pulled on jeans and a shirt and went down to the kitchen to find out what Tony wanted for breakfast. He headed straight for the coffeemaker, rubbing his eyes, and groped for his favorite mug, which always sat on the counter next to the coffee filters. "Tony, you eat yet?" 

When Gibbs reached for the coffeepot, he saw that there was a piece of paper propped up against the machine. 

Everything stopped. It was as if all the air had been sucked out of the room. 

It was only a scrap of white paper, folded in half, with JETHRO written on it in heavy marker, but Gibbs' heart was pounding as if it was a roadside bomb with a hair-trigger, about to go off. He had to force himself to pick up the note, and he stood there just holding it and staring at it, unable to comprehend the words written in Tony's scrawl.

He told himself to get a grip and concentrated on reading Tony's message.

_Jethro, this is my third try at writing this so here goes. I love you too much to say goodbye._

_Your friend,_

_Tony_

***–***end chapter 78***–***


	79. Always

"Damn it, Tony," Gibbs shouted, hitting the steering wheel with the heel of his hand. What the hell was Tony thinking, running out on him like that? Not even saying good-bye?

He drove fast – fast, even for him – ignoring the screeching brakes and angry horns sounding in his wake as he veered around the slower moving vehicles that got in his way. Assholes, he thought, and pressed down on the truck's accelerator, driving up the ramp and onto the highway at full speed, heading for Washington National Airport.

Gibbs managed to place a call to Stan, who was in the office as usual on this Sunday morning, to verify where the hell Tony had run off to, but Stan came back with the bad news that Tony had turned off his phone. When he caught up to Tony, and he _would_ catch him, Gibbs intended to give him a lecture about always being available. "Call me back as soon as you find out anything, Burley," Gibbs ordered, and hung up abruptly.

It was only a few minutes later when Stan called back. He had found out that Tony had confirmed his flight from DC to Columbus, Ohio. After informing Gibbs of the terminal from which Tony would be leaving, Stan said, "Gibbs? Franks wanted me to tell you that Pacci will be arriving in New York within the hour and he wants you to meet him. He has Seaman Carl Jacobs in custody. We're going to question Jacobs before handing him over to the military police to face the AWOL charges." Right at that moment, Gibbs didn't care about Seaman Jacobs, but he listened to the details of Pacci's incoming flight anyway, and then disconnected.

Gibbs swore some more, all the time worrying about his rash, inconsiderate, and thoroughly infuriating lover. As he drove, his mind started going over all the worst possible scenarios of things that might have happened to Tony.

The first thing he thought was that Tony's father had picked him up and was taking him overseas against his will, planning to sell him to the highest bidder as a sex slave. No, not possible, and besides, Gibbs thought with a wry smile, whoever bought Tony would soon get fed up with his fresh mouth and would realize that Tony was more trouble than he was worth. There was no way that DiNozzo Sr. had a hand in Tony's stealthy exit from Gibbs' house. Tony would have gone kicking and screaming.

Besides, Fornell had said that Senior had left the country, and the FBI and other agencies were keeping a close eye on Tony's father. It was a wild goose chase, following his every move, but the Feds still believed he'd eventually lead them to the millions of dollars that they were sure he had hidden away somewhere.

As soon as Gibbs discounted Senior's involvement with Tony's disappearance, his mind went straight to the next worst thing – the Mob. It wasn't likely that Tony had been taken by the Mob, unless… _shit_ …what if they'd kidnapped Tony as a way of taking revenge on his father for getting their boss killed? Jesus, he couldn’t stand the thought of the things they might do to him, torture, dismemberment…oh God! Or even worse, there was that Peruvian terrorist, that Cezar Romero. He must have forced Tony out of the house at gunpoint and…and…

Gibbs told himself to calm the hell down. This was crazy; he was letting his imagination run amok. Tony must have a perfectly good reason for avoiding him this morning, he reasoned. He didn't know what it was, but he would find out. Calmly. Reasonably. Without yelling or scaring anyone. Gibbs gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles were white and said aloud, "Okay, I can do this. I can do it." Maybe if he said it enough times he'd actually believe it.

How the kid had managed to get out of the house without waking him up, Gibbs didn't know. His Marine skills must be getting rusty with disuse, or else Tony was very good at sneaking out. Probably a bit of both.

Gibbs took the turning to the airport, tires screeching, and a few minutes later he found a parking spot. He was out of the truck and rushing into the terminal with his badge held out to an advancing security guard. Luckily the man backed off because Gibbs was in no mood to explain why a federal agent was rushing into the airport, looking for his missing lover.

Déjà vu all over again, he thought, except this airport was nothing like the one in Antioch where DiNozzo Sr. had kept his Gulfstream, that they'd reduced to ruins a couple of nights ago. Washington National was huge, and there were hundreds of people walking across the main concourse, heading for the check-in desks with carts piled up with luggage, streaming up the escalators and hurrying towards their departure gates.

Gibbs located the check-in counter for the airline on which Tony was booked. He wasn't shy about cutting in front of a long line of travelers, and using his badge and a glare to gain the information he was seeking. It didn't take long to find out that Tony had already checked in and had handed over his two large suitcases. The way the airline's pretty agent smiled upon hearing the name Anthony DiNozzo, Jr., Gibbs had no doubt that Tony had charmed her, probably in order to get a good seat and a free drink.

Gibbs strode quickly in the direction of the gate, even though the flight wasn't due to take off for a couple of hours. Once he made it to the waiting area, he scanned the crowd, trying to catch sight of Tony. The place was packed. There were businessmen, families with screaming kids, and what appeared to be an entire soccer team – but no Tony. Frustrated, Gibbs positioned himself in the center of the waiting area and slowly did a 360.

His eyes swept past a group of excited school kids and a few world-weary teachers trying to keep them together; a middle-aged couple bickering as if they were about to divorce any day now; four overweight businessmen with ruddy faces, loose neckties, and few drinks under their belts; a young executive chatting with a pair of giggling blond flight attendants, and…wait a minute.

Gibbs' eyes went back to the young executive. Expensive suit, slicked back hair, tall, with nice shoulders. He could tell from just seeing the back of the man's head that he was handsome. The man laughed and leaned towards one of the blonds, invading her space, a hand on her arm and…fuck, it was _Tony_. He was dressed to the nines in one of those designer suits of his, his hair carefully combed to cover the worst of the wound above his ear, and he was just _standing_ there, fooling around with a couple of girls as if he hadn't a care in the world.

Gibbs was so pissed he literally saw red. He was angry at Tony for running off, angry at Tony for scaring the shit out of him, and angry at _himself_ for allowing Tony to get so deeply under his skin that he had broken half the traffic laws in DC while rushing here so he could see Tony one last time, so he could find out what the _hell_ Tony had meant by leaving a fucking _note_ behind that was signed _'Your friend, Tony.'_

Tony never saw him coming.

Gibbs attacked from the side. He swooped in, grabbed Tony by the upper arm and marched him fast towards one of those club rooms that airlines set aside for frequent travelers and for those passengers who were willing to pay for the privilege of waiting away from the great unwashed.

The moment Gibbs laid a hand on Tony, Tony squealed, and a second later, when he saw it was Gibbs who was manhandling him, he started to protest the rough treatment. "Hey! Ow! Where're we going?"

Gibbs didn't even look at Tony when he growled, "Shut up, DiNozzo!"

Tony did as he was told.

There was only one passenger in the private waiting room, and it only took a second and a flash of his badge for Gibbs to get the guy to leave. The minute the door was slammed shut – and it even had a convenient lock – Tony started to demand, "What has got into you, Jethro?"

Gibbs ignored Tony's question. He grabbed fistfuls of Tony's suit and shoved him against the door, kissing him ruthlessly. It didn't take long for Tony's muffled protests to change into moans of pleasure, and he was kissing him back, open-mouthed and hungry for more. He draped his arms around Gibbs' neck, his fingers scraping across his scalp and tugging hard at his hair.

By the time Gibbs pulled away, breathing unevenly, Tony was smiling with half-closed eyes like he was high. "Oh," said Tony.

Gibbs kissed him again, a bit more softly, but no less possessively. This time Tony didn't complain. Gibbs had no idea how long they kissed, but at some point they parted, both of them breathing hard.

"Damn it, Tony," Gibbs muttered, annoyed that his anger had mostly dissipated. He leaned heavily into Tony, keeping him pressed against the door. He could feel Tony's thighs against his, firm beneath the expensive trousers, and the length of Tony's dick, hardening a little more with every passing second. Gibbs' own dick was swelling, but he was only interested in Tony's reaction to him at that moment. He raised his knee and exerted pressure on Tony's balls, making him groan.

"Stop, stop," Tony pled. "I'm gonna come in my pants."

"Serve you right," Gibbs retorted, some of that elusive anger finding its way into his tone. Tony looked into his face, unsure. He must have realized what had brought Gibbs there, and could see how angry he was. Tony tried to move to one side, but Gibbs placed a hand on either side of his head, palms flat against the door. "You're not going anywhere."

Tony's eyebrows rose and he carefully said, "Okaaaay."

Gibbs leaned in until their mouths were almost touching, and he snarled, "I was worried. I thought something had happened to you! What the hell were you doing, Tony?"

Tony blinked, apparently confused. "Uh, I was heading back to Ohio? Nothing happened to me. See? I'm fine."

"Yeah, I could see you're fine, the way you were cozying up to those girls!"

"Them? That was nothing. Flirting, maybe. Is that what's bothering you, Jethro?"

Gibbs slammed one of his hands against the door, making Tony jump. "I went down for breakfast and found you were gone. You snuck out!"

Tony averted his eyes and replied, his voice strained, "I thought you didn't want an emotional scene."

"The plan was I'd drive you to the airport, Tony. We'd say good-bye at the gate, like everyone else out there is doing, like normal people," Gibbs said tersely.

"But last night you told me how you hated good-byes," Tony said anxiously. "And…and you said how brave Shannon was, and how she didn't cry. How she was such a good Marine wife. I can't _be_ like that. I'm not brave like her, Jethro."

"That was different," Gibbs protested loudly. "I was going to war, overseas, for months at a time. We always made sure we said proper good-byes." His voice softened. "It's important not to leave things unsaid." _You never know, you might never get another chance._

Tony's expression gentled. "Okay, I get that. But you don't have to be so…so angry. It's sort of scary when you get like that."

Gibbs dropped his hands and stepped back. The last thing he had intended was to scare Tony. He took a deep breath. "How'd you get out of the house without waking me?"

Tony gave a short laugh. "You were sleeping so deeply, it wasn't hard. Guess you were worn out. I was already packed, just got dressed downstairs and waited down the block for a cab."

"But why, Tony?"

"I told you why. I guess I don't like emotional stuff, either. I mean I love it when you show you care for me, when we're making love, but I didn't want to…" He looked at his feet and shifted his weight, shrugging.

"Didn't want to what?" Gibbs persisted.

Tony gave Gibbs an exasperated look, and then blurted, "I didn't want to cry and be all needy, all right? I was trying to be strong. I wanted to prove I could do something on my own without messing it up, or needing you to rescue me, for a change. I did it for me, but I did it for _you_ , too. I just want you to be proud of me and I can't even get that right."

"Come here." Gibbs pulled Tony into an embrace, hating that Tony thought he'd failed him by not being strong or independent enough. They held each other for a while, with Gibbs rubbing a hand up and down Tony's back. He kissed Tony's cheek and said, "I am so proud of you, for so many reasons. You don't have to prove anything to me. I know you're strong. I know you can manage on your own, Tony, but you don't need to. We're a team now, work things out together. And…uh…I need to be needed, okay?"

"You do?"

"Yeah, I do. I love you so much, Tony, but sometimes these things you do…well, they worry me."

"I love you, too, Jethro, and I didn't mean to scare you."

"I wasn't scared, I was…"

"Pissed? Annoyed?" Tony suggested, one corner of his mouth quirking up.

"Okay, I was scared when I found out you'd gone. But…Tony, why the hell did you sign that note 'Your friend'?" Gibbs hadn't realized quite how much that bothered him until he said it aloud. He'd thought he meant more to Tony than just a friend.

Tony smiled fondly. "You _are_ my friend."

"Just your friend?" Yes, they were friends, but that wasn't how he looked at their relationship. Maybe Tony wasn't seeing things in quite the same way as he was.

"You're my lover, too, of course. Look, falling in love is a chemical reaction, Jethro. It's something that happens, that you have no control over. But friends, well, you choose your friends, and that makes them special. And if that makes me sound like a girl…"

Gibbs shook his head and grinned. "One thing you ain't, Tony, is a girl. And I'm glad that we're friends."

"That's good, because I don't have many of them, Jethro. So, now we agree we're friends, it's okay that I tell you that you really need to learn how to keep a lid on your temper, right? It isn't good for your blood pressure to spike like that, and you have this vein that pops up..."

"Hey!"

"I worry about you, too, you know. And…and I'll try to be less impulsive, okay?"

Gibbs was about to agree that might be a good idea, even if that impulsive streak was a big part of Tony's personality, but there was a knock on the door that Tony was leaning against. Startled, Tony jumped to one side, and Gibbs opened the door a few inches. It was a security guard looking wary, so Gibbs showed him his credentials and gave him a song and dance about protecting a witness.

The guard surprised him by notifying him that NCIS Special Agent Pacci was on his way over from the arrivals concourse with a prisoner. Pacci would meet him at the security station at the north entrance.

Gibbs thanked the man, and once he was gone, he turned back to Tony.

"Guess this is it, huh?" Tony asked, glancing at his watch. "Better get to my gate or I'll miss my flight."

Gibbs stood in front of him and smoothed out a wrinkle in the lapel of Tony's suit. Damn, he didn't want to see him go. "Yeah, you don't want to miss it. Got everything?" Tony nodded, looking unhappy. "Got your antibiotics? You have to take all of them," warned Gibbs.

"I know," Tony replied in a restrained voice. "I will. Same goes for you, Jethro."

Gibbs nodded. "I'll walk with you." He held the door open and they walked side by side across the busy waiting room. "Did you pack the ointment Ducky gave you for your burns? If you have any sign of infection you–"

"I know, go straight to the health center."

"You have my numbers? And the ones Ducky gave you?"

"I already added them to my phone, and I have a handwritten copy in my wallet as backup," Tony assured him.

"You'll get something to eat on the plane."

"I'm sure they have snacks, Jethro."

"You phone me as soon as you land."

"I will. Could you stop worrying?"

Gibbs paid no attention to Tony's plea, and continued as if he hadn't heard him. "And when you get to your dorm, you call me again. I want to know you're safe."

Amused, Tony said with exaggerated patience, "Yes, Jethro. Maybe we should have saved that chastity belt."

Gibbs narrowed his eyes. "You won't be needing that contraption."

"I won't?"

"Nope. I trust you to be faithful."

Tony seemed a little surprised and he blushed with pleasure. "I'll always be faithful to you, Jethro."

"I know. And before you know it, semester'll be over and you'll be back home."

Tony said, "Wasn't it Robert Frost who said that home is the place where they _have_ to take you in?"

"I don't _have_ to take you in – I want you there. And it's your home, too."

"I want to be with you, too."

"Okay then," Gibbs said abruptly, as if that was settled. They were at the gate, and it looked as though most of the passengers had already boarded. There were a few stragglers hustling to catch the plane. Gibbs stood close to Tony, not touching him although he was aching to do so. They looked at each other for a long minute before Gibbs said, "'Bye, Tony."

"'Bye, Jethro," Tony said, biting his lip and making a great effort not to get emotional. He squared his shoulders and took a deep breath. "Better go then. I'll call," he promised, his voice a little unsteady.

Gibbs patted Tony on his back, wanting to do so much more, but knowing that if he hugged Tony, he'd never be able to let him go. He stepped out of the way as another last-minute passenger hurried past them.

Tony lifted a hand in farewell, took a couple of steps backwards, never taking his eyes off Gibbs', and mouthing the word 'Bye' one last time. He then pivoted and started down the ramp to board his plane.

Gibbs watched him go, wondering how it had happened that his life – both of their lives – had been turned upside down in the space of a few days.  One thing for sure, he knew nothing would ever be the same. Gibbs moved over to the nearest big window so he could watch the airplane taxi out to the runway and take off, but as soon as he got there, he heard the sound of running feet behind him. He turned in alarm and suddenly his arms were full of Tony, hugging him tightly and whispering, "I love you, Jethro Gibbs," against his skin. And then, without another word, Tony ran back to the embarkation ramp and was gone from sight.

***–***

Special Agent Pacci was waiting just inside the security office with a young man whose hands were cuffed in front of him. It was Seaman Carl Jacobs, who had gone missing from DiNozzo's party last August, and had been presumed dead.

To Gibbs, Seaman Jacobs looked all of sixteen years old, although he knew him to be older. Maybe it was the long hair that fell over his forehead, or his small frame. Gibbs marched right up to Jacobs and had a good look at him. There were fading bruises on his face and arms, and a downtrodden look in his eyes. Jacobs squirmed at the scrutiny but said nothing.

For some privacy, they moved into an empty interrogation room and left the door open. Pacci explained, "Looks like Tony was right. The kid found himself a nice guy to take care of him for a while. When the bloom was off the rose, he hooked up with another, not-so-nice guy, and he's been desperately looking for a way out ever since. He practically threw himself into my arms when I turned up on his doorstep. The cops back in New York are taking care of the boyfriend."

"Does he remember Briggs?" Gibbs asked, talking over Jacob's head, as if he wasn't present.

"Yeah. Apparently Briggs approached Jacobs at DiNozzo's party last summer."

"That guy was a creep," interjected Jacobs. "It was a good party though."

Pacci ignored the interruption. "When Briggs tried to force a drink on him, Seaman Jacobs got suspicious. Jacobs found someone else to go home with, and he stayed with this man for two months before moving on, trying to avoid getting caught by the MPs. I told him about Harding and explained how lucky he was not to be lying at the bottom of the East River, along with a dozen more of the senator's murder victims."

Jacobs looked sick at Pacci's words.

Gibbs inspected the Seaman's bruises. Some of them were newer than others, so it was obvious that Jacobs had been some tough guy's punching bag, but none of them appeared to be bad enough to warrant medical attention. Nevertheless, he'd get Ducky to look the kid over when they got back to NCIS. "Looks like things haven't been going too well for you lately Seaman." He might feel some sympathy for Jacobs, but he was still a deserter, and Gibbs had no patience for anyone who shirked their duty. "Agent Pacci here is going to take your statement once we're at NCIS. You are going to cooperate."

Jacobs met Gibbs' eyes but quickly looked away. "Yes, sir. I'll cooperate, sir."

"That wasn't a question, Seaman. And don't call me sir. I'm Special Agent Gibbs, and I've been looking for you for a long time now." Jacobs stared at him, confused, so Gibbs clamped a hand to his shoulder and said sternly, "I talked to your mom and dad in the course of our investigation. Visited them in Queens. They've been very worried about you. They swore up and down their son couldn’t be a deserter. Guess they don't know you as well as they think they do."

Jacobs' face fell and he seemed to be devastated about letting his parents down. "I didn't mean to hurt them. I…I couldn’t stay on the ship. These guys were…Look, I just couldn’t stay any longer, Agent Gibbs."

Pacci exchanged a knowing glance with Gibbs. It wasn't hard to figure out what Jacobs was talking about. Pacci said, "I already told him that if anyone was harassing him, he should have taken his complaint to his CO. Jumping ship doesn't solve anything."

"It's not that easy," Jacobs protested. "If they'd found out I talked, they would have–"

Gibbs glared at Jacobs and said, "While you've been in hiding, Seaman, your shipmates have been out there, doing their jobs and fighting the enemy. It's time you accepted responsibility for your actions, and if you have something to report about anyone intimidating you, you do so when we get back to NCIS."

"I'm a deserter. Nobody's gonna listen," Jacobs said sullenly.

Gibbs said, " _We_ will listen. And Rule #45 still applies, even to deserters."

"Rule #45?"

"You gotta clean up your own mess, kid," explained Pacci. "Face the consequences like a man. Deal with it and move on."

For the first time they saw a little bit of hope in Jacob's eyes.

Gibbs nodded and said, "If you want a ride, let's go." He didn't wait for a response, just turned about face and walked out of the security office. "Damn, I need some coffee."

"Can we stop for Thai food when we pick up your coffee, Gibbs?" Pacci asked as he took hold of the prisoner's elbow and hurried after Gibbs.

"That crap'll eat a hole in your stomach, Pacci," Gibbs replied.

***–***

Although Gibbs' mind had been on Tony all day, working on his boat had helped pass the time. He'd been caulking and sanding and keeping himself busy down in his basement for hours, with one short break to eat the leftover fettucine for dinner.

Tony had called when he'd landed, as promised, but the reception had been lousy and they'd been cut off. He had phoned again when he got to his college, and was finally in the dorm. It was a pay phone in the hallway and apparently not at all private, so Tony's side of the conversation had been short. He'd promised Gibbs he'd call him once he'd powered up his cell phone, before he went to bed. It would be around eleven, if that was all right.

So, at five minutes to eleven, Gibbs was sitting up in bed, his cell phone in his lap, waiting for that phone call. He'd tried to read a book but hadn't been able to take in a word of it.

He picked the phone up on the first ring. "Tony?"

"Who else are you expecting to call you at 2300, Jethro? You on call for work?"

Gibbs slid down in bed a little. "No, but I'm back in the saddle early tomorrow."

"You looking forward to that?"

He shrugged. "Yeah, but it's desk duty until I get cleared. Have some loose ends to tidy up with the case. We found Seaman Carl Jacobs."

"Hey, that's great. Is he all right?"

"He's alive. You were right, you know, about him finding a boyfriend at your dad's party. He came real close to ending up one of Harding's victims." Gibbs didn't want to talk about work though. Instead he asked Tony about his classes and what he would be doing the rest of the semester, and reminded him to have a talk with the swim coach first chance he got.

"I know. I'm going to ask Coach Aronson if I can be on the team next season. I don't deserve it, missing so many practices, and skipping the swim meet to go to South Brewer, but maybe he'll give me another chance."

They talked a while, but when Gibbs heard Tony yawn, he figured it was time to wind up the phone call. "I'll try to call you tomorrow, Tony. Hard to know when."

"Any time. Leave a message if you can't get through."

"Okay."

"Uh, Jethro?"

"Yeah?"

"My roommate has a girlfriend and he says he won't be here tomorrow night."

"Okay?"

"I was thinking that maybe we could try out that phone sex? I'll wear my nipple rings."

Gibbs could hear Tony grinning on the other end of the line. He shook his head and said, "Sounds good to me. I'll be picturing you to get in the mood." Tony made a small sound and Gibbs asked, "What?"

"You know how they say that smell is the sense that evokes powerful memories?"

"Uh, yeah." Gibbs was wondering where this was going, sure that Tony was up to something.

"And you know how you said that people leave something behind when they want to return?"

Gibbs' eyes darted around the bedroom, wondering what Tony had left behind. He sat up and pulled open the nightstand drawer, meanwhile saying, "Yup."

"It's not in there, Jethro. It's under your pillow."

Gibbs reached under the pillow, felt something soft there, and pulled out Tony's red briefs. He grinned and without thinking, raised them to his nose and sniffed them.

Tony's laughter rang over the phone line. "'Night, Jethro. Sweet dreams."

"You, too, Tony. You, too."

*****–*** THE END ***–*****

**_End notes:_ ** Many thanks to my tireless betas along the way and especially to Combatcrazy for being such a great friend and tossing ideas around with me.

I cannot tell you how much I appreciate all the comments and kudos you've left, readers, so thanks go out to every one of you.

I plan to write some more in this world, but will stick to shorter sequels, maybe from Tony's POV, or perhaps I'll explore what happens between these two men during the summer, or ten years down the road.

At this point I'm just happy - really happy! - that I have completed this story, and that I was able to tie up the loose ends - and that I didn't forget to include Pacci. Thanks again!


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